.  ,   • 


m 


mam 


From  an  Act  prexcriliny  Rule*  for  the  Government  of  the  State  Library. 
passed  March  8th,   1861. 


SKCTIOX  11.  The  Librarian  shall  cause  to  be  kept  a  register  of  all 
books  issued  and  returned  :  and  all  books  taken  by  the  members  of  the 
Legislature,  or  its  officers,  shall  be  returned  at  the  clo.^e  of  the  session.  If 
any  person  injure  or  fail  to  return  any  book  taken  from  the  Library,  he 
shall  forfeit  and  pay  to  the  Librarian,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Library,  three 
times  the  value  thereof  :  and  before  the  Controller  shall  issue  his  warrant 
in  favor  of  any  member  or  officer  of  the  Legislature,  or  of  this  State,  for 
his  per  diem,  allowance,  or  salary,  he  shall  be  satisfied  that  such  member 
or  officer  has  returned  all  books  taken  out  of  the  Library  by  him,  and  has 
settled  all  accounts  for  injuring  such  books  or  otherwise. 

SEC.  15.  Books  may  be  taken  from  the  Library  by  the  members  of  the 
Legislature  and  its  officers  during  the  session  of  the  same,  and  at  any  time 
by  the  Governor  and  the  officers  of  the  Executive  Department  of  this  State 
who  are  required  to  keep  their  offices  at  the  seat  of  government,  the 
Justices  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the  Attorney-General,  and  the  Trustees  of 
the  Librarv. 


THE    BROWNINGS. 


THE  ATTACK  OX  ROSE  COTTAGE. 


THE    BROWNINGS. 


A    TALE   OF    THE 


\ 


GREAT   REBELLION^ 


NEW    YORK: 

M.  W.  DODD,  No.  506  BROADWAY. 


TH  E    BROWNINGS: 


A  TALE  OF  THE 


GREAT   REBELLION. 


BY 

J.    G.    FULLER, 

AUTHOR  OF   "THE   GRAHAMS,"    ETC. 


NEW  YORK; 

M.  W.   DODD,   506   BROADWAY, 
1867. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 
M.    W.   DODD, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


THE  NEW  YORK  PRINTING  COMPANY, 

81,  83,  and  83   Centre  Street, 

NEW  YORK. 


THE   BROWNINGS 


CHAPTER   I. 

I  WISH  you  a  "  merry  Christmas,"  and  will 
tell  you  a  story. 

You  must  not  think,  my  young  readers,  that 
it  is  cold  everywhere  at  Christmas,  and  that 
children  are  obliged  to  go  out  muffled  and  fur- 
red as  they  do  here.  In  our  own  country  there 
are  many  places  where  the  sun  shines  warmly, 
and  the  flowers  blossom  all  the  year  round. 
While  the  happy  children  of  the  North  have 
merry  sleigh-rides  and  go  skating  on  the  frozen 
ponds  and  rivers,  the  little  ones  of  the  sunny 
South  pick  oranges  and  pomegranates,  or  twine 


10  THE  BROWNINGS. 

garlands  of  roses  for  the  "merry  Christmas" 
days. 

If  you  have  studied  geography,  you  will  re- 
collect that  the  St.  Mary's  river  forms  a  part 
of  the  boundary  line  between  the  States  of 
Georgia  and  Florida.  On  the  banks  of  this 
river,  only  a  few  miles  from  its  entrance  into 
the  Atlantic  Ocean,  there  stood  not  long  ago  a 
pretty  rustic  cottage,  covered  all  over  with 
scarlet  woodbine  and  white  Cherokee  roses. 
It  was  not  a  solid,  substantial-looking  building, 
such  as  you  see  everywhere  at  the  North,  built 
for  protection  against  frost  and  storm  ;  it  looked 
more  like  a  summer-house  or  arbor  built  for 
ornament  rather  than  use.  It  was  a  sum- 
mer-house, and  its  doors  and  windows  were 
seldom  closed ;  for  although  the  children  of 
the  St.  Mary's  count  December,  January,  and 
February  in  the  months  of  the  year,  they  sel- 
dom see  there  either  frost  or  snow. 

On  Christmas  morning,  18(51,  a  little  white 
girl  dressed  in  black,  and  a  large  black  girl 
dressed  in  white,  were  sitting  together  on  the 


THE  BROWNINGS.  11 

piazza,  of  the  cottage.  They  had  a  basket  of 
flowers  before  them,  and  the  large  one  was  try- 
ing her  skill  at  making  a  wreath.  The  little 
girl's  name  was  Lucy  Browning,  but  her 
friends  all  called  her  Lulu.  The  colored  girl 
was  her  nurse — Teenah.  Teenah  looked  as 
black  as  ebony  in  her  white  dress,  while  little 
Lulu  in  her  black  one  looked  pale  as  a  snowdrop. 
It  had  not  been  a  "  merry  Christmas"  morn- 
ing at  the  cottage,  for  many  reasons.  Lulu 
comprehended  but  one.  Since  the  last  Christ- 
mas her  beautiful  mother  had  gone  away  from 
them  to  dwell  with  the  angels.  She  did  not 
quite  comprehend  that,  even  ;  only  that  her 
mother  was  gone  from  the  cottage  and 
was  laid  under  the  green  oaks  at  the  end  of 
the  lawn,  where  little  Lulu  went  every  even- 
ing to  say  "Our  Father,"  and  sing  the  even- 
ing hymn  her  mother  taught  her.  Only  the 
Christmas  before,  she  had  sung  her  a  sweet 
little  carol  and  tied  her  a  garland  of  rose-buds ; 
and  when  her  father  went  out  that  morning 
with  his  dog  and  gun,  he  raised  her  in  his 


12  THE  BROWNINGS. 

arms,  Dressed  her  to  his  heart,  and  said  :  "  Go, 
Lula,  and  sing  to  darling  mamma  to-day ! 
Sing  the  Christ-child  and  carry  roses."  Then 
he  kissed  her  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart  again. 

Lulu  followed  him  to  the  river  bank,  watch- 
ed him  while  he  untied  the  little  skiff  at  the 
landing,  saw  him  jump  in  with  old  Zack  the 
hunter,  then  threw  kisses  after  him  all  the  way 
across  the  river  to  Florida. 

"There,  he  has  got  there  now,  Teenah! 
Don't  you  see  ?  Make  haste,  and  let  us  go  and 
cut  sweet  roses  for  mamma." 

While  Lulu  and  her  nurse  are  in  the  garden, 
we  will  look  around  and  see  what  we  can  dis- 
cover. 

Groups  of  oleanders  taller  than  the  cottage 
are  all  in  bloom  on  one  side ;  on  the  other  is 
an  orangery,  every  tree  hanging  with  ripe 
fruit  and  budding  with  snowy  flowers. 
Behind  the  house  is  a  little  cluster  of  cabins ; 
before  one  of  these,  an  old  grey-haired  negro 
sits  in  the  sun  playing  the  violin :  but  there 
are  no  dancers,  as  usual  on  Christmas  morning. 


THE  BROWNINGS.  13 

The  cabins  are  deserted.  If  you  watch  the 
old  man  closely  you  will  see  him  now  and 
then  take  a  corner  of  his  bright  bandanna  and 
wipe  his  eyes.  He  is  weeping,  not  for  himself, 
but  for  his  dear  young  master.  One  of  the 
strings  of  his  instrument  snapped  at  last  under 
his  heavy  stroke.  "  'Pears  like  'tis  another  of 
poor  Mar's  Alfred's  heartstrings,"  he  said  softly  ; 
"  hunted  like  a  wild  beast  by  the  wicked 
Seceshers.  Nothin'  for  ole  Dick  any  more 
but  to  watch  and  wait !  "  and  his  tears  grew 
to  sobs. 

An  old  woman  with  a  pipe  in  her  mouth 
and  a  gay  head-dress  came  out  of  the  cabin. 

"  Dis  yer  won't  do  nohow,  ole  man,"  she 
said  almost  sternly.  "  It  neber  '11  do !  Don't 
you  see  how  I  bears  up  ?  Go  to  the  patch  ober 
dar,  now,  and  bring  some  yams  and  some 
cabbage  and  turnips;  de  Christmas-turkey  is 
on  the  spit,  and  Miss  Lulu's  pie  is  baking  full 
of  plums.  I  tell  you,  ole  man,  'twon't  do  fur 
to  be  idle.  No  more  holidays  for  de  like  ob  us 
till  we  git  de  long  freedom.  When  Mar's 


THE  BR  0  WNINGS. 

Alfred  said  de  udder  day,  '  Aunt  Chrissy,  you 
can  go  if  you  like ;  de  way  is  open  now,'  I 
tole  him  we  is  ole  people,  you  and  I,  and  will 
wait  for  de  hebenly  gates  to  open.  But  'tis 
time  you  is  up  and  gwine  now,  ole  man  I  We 
will  hab  de  dinner  all  ready  when  young 
Massa  comes." 

Uncle  Dick  got  up  slowly  and  walked  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  field.  In  the  garden  he 
met  little  Lulu  and  Teenah  returning  to  the 
cottage  with  their  flowers,  and  waited  to  give 
them  a  Christmas  blessing. 

Only  two  short  years  before,  and  Rose  Cot- 
tage was  one  of  the  happiest  homes  in  the 
South ;  I  did  not  say  the  wealthiest,  for  in  the 
rich  Gulf  States  there  were  many  richer  men 
than  Alfred  Browning,  Lulu's  father.  Only 
a  little  further  down  the  river  was  a  planter 
thrice  as  rich  as  he,  and  it  was  at  this  same 
planter's  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  fair 
stranger  who  afterwards  became  his  wife.  It 
proved  a  happy  union  for  both,  though  exist- 
ing but  five  years. 


THE  BROWNINGS.  15 

Little  Lulu's  mother  was  a  native  of  New 
Hampshire.  Her  father  had  died  of  consump- 
tion before  she  was  fifteen.  She  had  one  bro- 
ther older  than  herself  in  college  at  the  time 
of  her  father's  death.  Her  mother  was  left  in 
moderate  circumstances;  but  understanding 
her  husband's  wishes  in  regard  to  the  educa- 
tion of  her  children,  she  determined  to  exe- 
cute them  faithfully.  John  was  sent  back  to 
college,  and  Ellen  to  a  neighboring  seminary, 
while  their  mother  toiled  early  and  late 
for  their  support.  In  spite  of  her  best 
efforts,  however,  debts  accumulated,  and  the 
pretty  homestead  was  mortgaged  for  half  its 
value. 

"  It  will  be  better  by  and  by,"  the  mother 
said  hopefully.  "John  will  have  his  pro- 
fession, and  Ellen  can  teach  school ;  then  I 
shall  lay  up  something,  instead  of  falling  back. 
It  is  of  no  use  to  trouble  them  about  it  now." 

It  was  their  last  year  at  school,  and  the 
widow  calculated  rightly  in  regard  to  future 
expenses;  but  wrongly  when  estimating  her 


16  THE  BROWNINGS 

daughter's  strength  to  endure  the  wear  and 
tear  of  a  teacher's  life.  The  first  quarter's 
trial  was  robbing  her  cheeks  of  their  bloom 
and  developing  the  seeds  of  latent  disease, 
when  an  accident  changed  the  sphere  of  her 
labors. 

One  summer  afternoon,  the  village  innkeep- 
er called  upon  Mrs.  Hunter  to  ask  a  favor  for 
a  stranger.  A  lady  on  her  way  to  the  moun- 
tains had  met  with  an  accident  which  might 
detain  her  for  several  days  in  the  village.  His 
house  was  crowded  and  noisy ;  the  lady  needed 
quiet  and  repose.  Would  she  entertain  her 
and  her  daughter  until  the  arrival  of  her  hus- 
band from  Washington  ? 

Mrs.  Hunter  had  no  objection  to  offer,  and 
the  same  evening  found  the  strangers  comfort- 
ably located  in  her  pleasant  home.  A  warm 
attachment  was  the  result ;  and  before  the  ar- 
rival of  her  husband,  Mrs.  Mclntosh  was 
urging  Mrs.  Hunter  to  allow  her  daughter 
to  return  with  them  to  Georgia  in  the  au- 
tumn. 


• 
THE  BROWNINGS.  17 

"  We  cannot  afford  it,"  the  mother  replied, 
with  simple  frankness.  "  I  have  no  doubt  the 
change  might  benefit  her  as  you  say,  and  I 
would  gladly  yield  my  own  wishes  for  her 
good ;  but  at  present  it  is  not  to  be  thought 
of." 

"  We  will  defray  all  her  expenses,"  the  lady 
persisted. 

"  I  could  not  accept  your  invitation  on 
those  terms,"  interposed  Ellen.  "  Independence 
is  more  necessary  to  me  than  either  health  or 
pleasure." 

"  Why  wouldn't  Miss  Ellen  go  and  be  our 
teacher?"  Ally  Mclntosh  asked,  on  another 
occasion.  "  It  wouldn't  be  so  hard  for  her  as 
her  school  here,  and  we  want  her  so  much." 

No  one  replied;  but  when  Mr.  Mclntosh 
came,  the  subject  was  resumed.  In  speaking 
of  her  school  one  day,  he  inquired  the  number 
of  her  pupils  and  her  salary. 

"Twenty-five  pupils,  and  thirty  dollars  a 
month,"  was  the  reply. 
•    "  I  will  give  you  fifty  dollars  a  month  for 


18  THE  BROWNINGS. 

three  pupils,"  he  returned.  "My  wife  and 
Ally  will  not  be  persuaded  to  go  home  with- 
out you.  Think  of  it  until  our  return  from 
the  Notch,  and  then  give  us  your  deci- 
sion." 

"  I  will  give  it  now,  sir,"  she  said,  pleasantly. 
"If  my  mother  consents,  I  should  be  very 
happy  to  accept  your  offer." 

Mrs.  Hunter  offered  no  objection,  and  two 
months  later  Ellen  Hunter  accompanied  her 
new  friends  South.  That  was  the  way  Lulu's 
mother  first  went  to  the  St.  Mary's.  Alfred 
Browning  was  a  nephew  of  the  gentleman,  and 
found  his  uncle's  house  more  agreeable  than 
ever  after  the  advent  of  the  Northern  teacher, 
who  was  treated  in  every  respect  like  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  house. 

Two  years  afterwards,  Ellen  went  back  to 
New  Hampshire  with  a  sum  of  money  suffi- 
cient to  pay  up  what  remained  of  the  old  mort- 
gage, her  mother  and  brother  having  already 
reduced  it  to  a  third  of  its  original  'amount ; 
and  that  same  autumn,  a  gay  Southern  party' 


THE  BROWNINGS. 


19 


came  to  take  her  again  to  Georgia — not  to 
Mclntosh  Grove,  but  to  Eose  Cottage,  her 
future  home. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THERE  are  sonie  natures  that  seem  formed 
to  awaken  love  wherever  they  go.  Ellen 
Browning's  was  such  a  one.  Far  away  amid 
the  hills  where  her  happy  childhood  was  passed, 
she  was  the  pet  and  pride  of  her  native  village. 
On  the  banks  of  the  St.  Mary's,  surrounded 
with  strangers,  strange  customs  and  institutions, 
she  was  soon  beloved  by  the  lofty  and  lowly 
who  shared  her  acquaintance ;  and  never  was 
bride  more  warmly  welcomed  than  she  was  to 
Rose  Cottage  plantation.  Men  who  made  it  a 
point  to  dislike  New  England,  and  delighted  to 
express  their  sentiments  on  every  occasion, 
forgot  their  prejudices  in  the  presence  of  Ellen 
Browning,  and  congratulated  her  husband  on 
the  worth  of  his  prize. 

No  home  in  all  the  region  was  so  well  regu- 


THE  BROWNINGS.  •  21 

lated  as  theirs.  Not  a  dusky  finger-mark  re- 
mained on  its  walls.  All  the  freshness  and 
neatness  of  a  Northern  home  seemed  united  to 
the  bloom  and  sunshine  of  the  South.  The 
bride's  own  hands  looped  back  the  snowy 
muslin  and  disposed  the  simple  furniture  of 
her  apartments,  hung  the  pictures  on  the  walls, 
grouped  the  flowers  in  the  vases,  and  the  most 
fastidious  could  detect  no  want  of  harmony. 
Visitors  surprised  her  at  her  morning  tasks, 
and  she  received  them  without  apology,  just  as 
she  sang  and  played  to  them  without  affecta- 
tion or  vanity. 

Of  all  her  dusky  house-maids,  not  one  could 
catch  the  secret  of  their  young  mistress's  ways 
except  the  child  Teenah,  whose  instinctive  love 
of  beauty  and  order  seemed  the  very  counter- 
part of  her  own.  Shf^was  a  little  thing, 
scarcely  eight  years  olc^,  and  clung  to  Mrs. 
Browning  like  her  shadow.  It  was  not  long 
before  she  surprised  her  with  bouquets  of  fault- 
less structure,  and  often  in  the  morning  her 
self-imposed  tasks  were  anticipated  and  per- 


22  THE  BROWNINGS. 

formed  with  the  most  scrupulous  neatness  and 
exactness  by  the  careful  child.  Teenah  soon 
became  the  favored  attendant  of  her  mistress ; 
sat  at  her  feet  and  learned  to  sew,  and  sing,  and 
read,  until  the  advent  of  little  Lulu  divided 
her  care. 

"  May  I  love  the  baby,  Miss  Ellen  ?  "  was  the 
singular  inquiry  of  the  little  black  nurse,  as  she 
sat  a  few  days  after,  waving  her  great  fan  over 
the  infant's  crib. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Teenah  ?  " 

"  Do  no  what  I  mean,  Missus  !  Never  had 
noffin  to  love  much !  No  mammy,  no  baby !  " 

"  Do  you  remember  your  mother,  Teenah  ?  " 

"  Never  had  none,  only  Aunt  Chrissy." 

"  Who  taught  you  before  I  came?  " 

"De  birds,  Miss!" 

The  eyes  of  the  young  mother  filled  with 
tears.  A  little  human  heart  crying  out  from 
its  lonely  depths  for  love,  for  something  to 
love,  was  a  thing  she  had  never  thought  of 
before.  There  were,  a  dozen  children  on  the 
plantation ;  how  it  happened  that  Teenah  had 


THE  BROWNINGS.  23 

no  brother  or  sister  among  them,  no  home  in 
their  cabins,  she  could  not  tell.  "Will  MY 
child  ever  know  such  poverty  of  heart  ?  "  she 
thought,  as  she  gazed  on  the  solitary  waif 
before  her;  " God  alone  knows." 

After  a  silent  prayer  for  direction,  Ellen 
Browning  called  her  little  maid  to  her  side. 

"I  have  not  answered  your  question  yet, 
Teenah.  Will  you  love  my  baby  ?  " 

"  Better  than  anything  in  de  world,  if  you 
will  let  me,  Miss." 

"Love  her  all  you  wish,  my  poor  child. 
Teach  her  the  things  I  have  taught  you,  and 
other  things  I  will  teach  you,  when  she  has  no, 
mother." 

"Out  of  de  pictur'  book,  Miss?" 

"  Out  of  another  book,  Teenah.  I  will  teach 
you  about  God  and  heaven." 

"  Oh,  I  know  Him  now,  Miss  Ellen.  He 
MADE  me.  Did  He  make  all  de  darkeys  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  white  folks  too." 

"  Why  didn't  He  make  dem  like,  den  ?  " 

A  hearty  laugh  outside  betrayed  a  listener. 


24:  THE  BROWNINGS. 

"  Good  for  YOU,  little  ebony,"  said  the  voice 
of  Alfred  Browning.  "  I  will  send  you  to 
Oberlin  when  Miss  Ellen  has  exhausted  her 
stock  of  knowledge,  especially  if  you  are  to  be 
the  future  teacher  of  Lulu." 

There  was  something  ironic  in  the  tone  of 
her  husband's  voice ;  but  the  hearty  laugh  that 
succeeded  was  full  of  good-nature,  and  reas- 
sured her. 

"  Come  in,  Alfred,  and  sit  by  the  crib  while 
Teen  ah  cuts  me  some  flowers." 

There  was  a  merry  smile  lurking  in  the  cor- 
ner of  his  mouth  as  he  obeyed  the  summons. 

"  Shall  I  use  the  brush  this  way?  "  he  asked, 
demurely.  "  Now,  Ellen,  what  is  it?  " 

"  Tell  me  who  is  Teenah,  and  why  she  has 
.  no  relatives  on  the  plantation  ?  " 

. "  A  little  shipwrecked  imp,  I  bought  for  a 
few  shillings  off  the  coast,  and  brought  home 
to  Aunt  Chriss." 

"  How  did  it  all  hap'pen  ?  " 

"  Half-a-dozen  years  ago  a  terrible  storm 
occurred.  Many  vessels  were  wrecked  off  the 


THE  BROWNINGS.  25 

Carolinas,  and  among  them  an  African  slaver. 
Her  captain  was  from  Cape  Cod,  and  his 
worthless  carcass  became  food  for  sharks. 
Many  dead  bodies  were  washed  ashore,  and 
among  them  an  old  colored  sailor  who  had 
Teenah  lashed  to  his  back.  The  child  was 
alive,  and  in  a  few  hours  was  as  active  as  a 
monkey.  I  was  up  the  coast  not  long  after, 
and  heard  that  a  few  of  the  surviving  negroes 
were  at  the  house  of  a  wrecker.  Being  short 
of  hands  at  the  time,  I  went  to  look  at  them ; 
but  a  Florida  trader  was  there  before  me.  He 
had  taken  them  all  with  the  exception  of  the 
child,  whom  the  wrecker's  wife  was  most 
anxious  to  be  rid  of.  I  took  her,  out  of  sheer 
pity  to  both,  and  she  bids  fair  to  become  a 
genius." 

"I  will  see  what  I  can  make  of  her,"  re- 
turned his  wife,  gravely.  "  You  know  I  have 
.always  liked  the  child." 

And  so  for  nearly  four  years  Teenah  grew 
under  the  kindly  fostering  care  of  the  new  mis- 
tress, a  highly  favored  child  of  bondage.  And 


2 6  THE  BRO  WNINGS. 

when  her  mistress's  strength  declined,  all  the 
care  that  had  been  bestowed  upon  her  was  re- 
paid a  hundredfold  by  the  grateful  child.  Of 
ull  the  attached  servants  no  one  knew  as  well 
as  she  how  to  minister  to  the  invalid's  pleasure 
or  her  necessities.  No  one  else  could  sing  her 
own  cradle-song  to  little  Lulu,  and  to  no  one 
save  her  parents  was  the  little  one  so  fondly 
attached.  Even  Alfred  Browning  had  to  ac- 
knowledge at  last  that  "  Teenah  was  no  com- 
mon darkey." 

Yery  difficult  it  is  when  skies  are  bright,  and 
the  voice  of  love  whispers  of  a  happy  future, 
to  respond,  "  Our  future  lies  not  here  !  It  is 
hidden  in  the  grave  !  "  Ellen  Browning  found 
it  so,  and  so  for  awhile  kept  silent.  But  when 
the  war-clouds  began  to  gather  in  her  country's 
horizon,  and  she  heard  the  distant  angry  thun- 
der and  felt  assured  the  tempest  would  not 
pass  by,  her  own  life  -appeared  to  her  of  little 
moment  in  comparison  with  a  duty  left  undone, 
or  a  word  of  truth  left  unspoken.  Then  for 
the  first  time  since  she  had  forsaken  her  own 


THE  BROWNINGS.  27 

home  for  that  of  strangers  was  the  voice  of  de- 
traction raised  against  her. 

With  few  exceptions,  the  landed  proprietors 
of  that  vicinity  favored  the  new  political  party. 
Her  old  friends,  the  Mclntoshes,  were  among 
the  leaders.  As  a  near  relative  of  the  family, 
her  husband's  decision  rested  with  great  weight 
upon  her  mind.  A  convention  had  been  called 
at  the  capital  for  State  action.  The  question 
whether  he  would  assist  to  swell  the  tide  of 
disloyalty  was  more  to  her  then  than  whether 
she  would  live  to  bless  his  life  or  watch  over 
their  child. 

Never  from  woman's  lips  have  arisen  more 
earnest  cries  than  from  hers  that  her  husband's 
feet  might  not  stumble  on  the  dark  mountain 
of  secession ;  never  from  woman's  eyes  fallen 
more  joyful  tears  than  from  hers  when  she 
heard  him  respond  to  a  party  of  friends,  who 
came  to  question  him  openly — "  I  am  not  with 
you  in  this  matter.  Every  drop  of  blood  in 
my  veins  is  loyal  to  the  old  Union !  " 

Not  a  word  on  the  subject  had  ever  passed 


28  THE  BROWNINGS. 

between  them;  but  when  their  guests  were 
gone,  she  drew  her  chair  close  beside  him,  took 
his  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  saying : 

"  I  can  bear  to  die  now,  my  husband !  You 
have  lifted  the  heaviest  weight  from  my 
heart." 

"Bear  to  die,  Ellen !  Tell  me  what  you 
mean,  darling?  " 

"  Don't  look  so  shocked !  Gaze  calmly  upon 
me,  Alfred,  and  now  you  will  see  how  very 
near  I  am  drawing  to  our  Eternal  Home.  I 
could  not  bear  to  speak  of  it ;  I  thought  you 
would  see  it  soon  enough.  But  joy  has  un- 
sealed my  lips.  While  I  have  prayed  once 
that  you  might  be  able  to  bear  this  stroke 
without  complaint,  I  have  prayed  many  times 
that  you  might  be  strong  in  the  hour  of  our 
country's  darkness.  God  be  thanked  that  you 
are  true  and  loyal !  " 

"  This  subject  has  tried  you  too  far,  my  dear, 
and  you  have  grown  weak  and  nervous.  Do 
not  think  I  have  been  blind  to  your  anxiety, 
or  that  it  has  not  influenced  me.  Although 


THE  BROWNINGS.  29 

my  own  convictions  would  for  ever  have  pre- 
vented me  from  being  a  secessionist,  I  might 
have  been  tempted,  like  many  others,  to  drift 
along  with  the  popular  current,  instead  of  re- 
solving steadily  to  oppose  it.  Do  not  think 
that  the  loss  of  property  or  a  sense  of  personal 
danger  could  have  influenced  me;  but  issues 
dearer  far  than  my  own  life  are  involved  in 
my  decision — the  safety  perhaps  of  my  wife 
and  child." 

"  Fear  not  for  us,  Alfred ;  I  shall  soon  be  at 
rest,  and  the  God  who  has  heard  my  prayers 
will  watch  over  our  child." 

"  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  you  speak  thus,  my 
darling  wife;  you  unnerve  me.  When  the 
winter  passes  away  from  your  Northern  hills, 
I  will  send  you  to  gather  strength  in  their 
bracing  air.  Have  courage  until  then,  Ellen  !  " 

She  smiled  faintly.  Her  husband  turned 
and  brushed  away  a  tear. 


CHAPTER  III. 

No  sooner  were  Alfred  Browning's  political 
sentiments  avowed  than  the  tide  of  public 
opinion  turned  against  him  ;  and  by  none  was 
he  more  strongly  reproached  than  by  his  own 
kindred.  "They  had  always  suspected  him 
of  leaning  towards  abolitionism,"  they  averred  ; 
"his  marriage  to  a  Northerner  had  doubtless 
strengthened  that  inclination.  But  one  thing 
was  certain  ;  he  could  never  live  in  peace,  and 
share  the  benefits  of  a  government  he  ignored. 
Georgia  was  an  independent  State,  for  ever  cut 
loose  from  the  old  Union"  and  her  sons  must 
abide  the  decision  or  become  outcasts." 

The  taunt  of  abolitionism  stirred  the  proud 
spirit  of  Browning  to  its  very  depth,  while  the 
allusion  to  his  marriage  stung  him  to  anger. 

"  If,"  he  said  haughtily,  "  to  hold  a  State  in- 


THE  BROWNINGS.  31 

stitution  lightly,  when  it  conflicts  with  the  wel- 
fare of  my  country,  constitute  an  abolitionist, 
then  am  I  one  indeed,  though  I  never  before 
had  such  a  suspicion.  And  if  to  have  married 
a  woman  of  goodness  above  all  praise  strength- 
en not  a  man's  courage  to  do  right,  he  must  be 
altogether  unworthy  of  his  good  fortune." 

As  time  sped,  that  which  had  long  been  ap- 
parent to  the  young  wife  and  mother  became 
evident  to  all.  The  spoiler  was  not  to  be 
robbed  of  his  prey  by  soft  sunshine,  change  of 
air,  or  the  sweeter  breath  of  love.  His  claim 
had  already  been  delayed  a  few  pleasant  years, 
while  earth-ties  had  been  growing  stronger  and 
stronger.  Had  she  remained  in  her  own  North- 
ern home,  the  seeds  of  disease  would  doubt- 
less have  matured  a  little  sooner,  but  not  more 
certainly ;  for  when  were  the  seeds  of  con- 
sumption, once  planted,  ever  known  to  fail  ? 

The  certainty  of  the  event  fell  with  crushing 
weight  upon  the  faithful  husband,  who  had 
shut  his  eyes  steadily  against  conviction.  For 
awhile  he  could  not  be  brought  to  speak  on  the 


32  THE  BROWNINGS. 

subject,  or  act  in  reference  to  it.  But  in  time 
a  portion  of  his  wife's  heroic  spirit  seemed  in- 
fused into  his  own,  though  little  of  her  patient 
submission.  Her  wishes  in  regard  to  the  future 
of  her  child  were  in  strict  accordance  with  his 
own.  She  had  another  wish,  more  earnestly 
expressed  even  than  those  for  her  own  child, 
and  lived  tasee  it  gratified.  It  was  Teenah's 
emancipation.  The  legal  papers  were  drawn 
and  placed  in  her  own  hands,  and  she  had  the 
satisfaction  of  communicating  the  intelligence 
to  the  child,  and  advising  her  as  to  her 
future. 

Lulu's  nurse  wept  on  her  knees  as  the  infor- 
mation was  imparted  to  her ;  kissed  her  kind 
mistress's  hands,  and  promised  never  to  leave 
her  little  helpless  charge  to  a  stranger,  whatever 
might  happen.  The  promise  was  a  comfort  to 
the  dying  parent. 

The  other  servants  of  the  estate  shared  their 
young  mistress's  care  and  blessing;  and  when 
her  last  work  of  love  was  done,  and  they  laid 
her  to  rest  beneath  the  flowers  of  June,  all  the 


THE  BROWNINGS.  83 

sunshine  of  Eose  Cottage  was  darkened  for 
ever. 

Great  events  in  the  history  of  the  nation 
trod  thickly  upon  one  another  in  the  succeed- 
ing months.  The  war-cloud  which  lay  dark 
and  threatening  in  the  horizon  burst  in  fury  on. 
the  land.  The  victory  of  Manassas  had  inspired 
the  Southern  leaders  with  fresh  confidence  and 
determination,  and  no  voice  of  reason  was 
thenceforward  heard  in  cabinet  or  council. 
Every  man,  whatever  his  wishes  or  his  will, 
must  help  to  drive  the  car  of  their  Moloch 
through  the  land.  No  Union  man  was  safe  to 
abide  in  peace  at  home. 

Several  times  since  refusing  to  enrol  his 
name  as  a  volunteer  in  the  rebel  service 
Alfred  Browning  had  been  warned  to  repair 
to  a  camp  of  instruction,  or  prepare  for  a  worse 
fate.  Threats  did  not  intimidate  him.  "  Truth 
must  have  its  martyrs"  he  said  haughtily.  "If 
I  die,  it  shall  be  in  its  defence."  He  had  asked 
but  one  boon — to  send  his  little  one  and  her 

nurse  to  her  mother's  friends  in  the  North, 
5 


34  THE  BR  0  WNINGS. 

"No  one  will  be  permitted  to  leave  Hie  Con- 
federacy" was  the  tyrannous  reply. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  granary  of  the 
plantation  was  rifled  of  its  corn,  and  the  sugar- 
house  of  its  sweets.  His  flocks  were  also  driven 
away  by  the  merciless  guerillas. 

"It  is  the  last  food  Eose  Cottage  plantation 
will  ever  furnish  the  rebellion,"  he  said  reso- 
lutely. 

A  few  days  afterwards  he  called  together  his 
field-hands  and  addressed  them  thus  : 

"We  have  been  robbed  of  our  crops  by 
the  guerillas.  If  there  is  anything  to  entice 
them,  we  shall  be  robbed  again.  I  will 
plant  no  more.  You  have  heard  of  the  great 
fleet  that  has  landed  upon  the  islands  of  the 
coast.  The  Northerners  come  to  liberate  the 
white  men  of  the  South  as  well  as  the  blacks. 
I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  assist  them.  As 
many  of  you  as  are  willing  to  take  your  lives 
in  your  hands  and  run  your  chances  of  getting 
to  the  fleet  are  at  liberty  to  go.  You  have  all 
been  faithful  to  me,  but  I  have  no  further  need 


THE  BROWNINGS.  35 

of  your  services.  You  are  now  free.  I  pro- 
mised your  dying  mistress  to  care  for  you,  and 
will  do  my  best  to  provide  you  with  extra 
clothing  for  the  coming  year.  Take  what 
provisions  you  may  require  for  the  journey, 
and  help  one  another.  The  way  is  not  long ; 
go  a  few  at  a  time ;  and  if  you  are  arrested 
and  brought  back  as  runaways,  you  can  start 
again.  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you,  and  may 
God  guide  you  in  safety !  " 

A  shower  of  tears  and  sobs  burst  from  the 
poor  creatures  while  their  master  was  speak- 
ing. 

"  Qod  bress  dear  Mar's  Alfred,"  was  heard  on 
every  side.  But  only  a  few  appeared  in  haste 
to  avail  themselves  of  the  proffered  freedom  ; 
for  the  plantation,  especially  since  the  advent 
of  the  beloved  mistress,  had  been  a  home  of 
comfort  to  them  as  well  as  of  toil. 

There  is  much  error  in  the  common  belief 
that  cruelty  is  the  law  of  the  Southern  planta- 
tion. It  is  only  an  exception  to  the  more 
general  rule  of  care  and  kindness.  Wrong  as 


36  THE  BROWNINGS. 

such  a  system  of  servitude  may  be  in  itself, 
great  as  are  its  attendant  evils,  nowhere  per- 
haps in  the  world  are  found  more  careless, 
happy  laborers  than  in  the  Southern  United 
States. 

In  less  than  a  month  every  cabin  on  the 
estate,  except  old  Uncle  Dick's,  was  deserted. 
They  went  in  families  and  companies,  and 
their  exodus  was  attended  with  much  unfeigned 
sorrow.  Some  of  them  were  old  servants — 
the  playmates  of  their  master  in  his  boyhood  ; 
and  a  few  older  still,  brought  by  the  old  master 
when  he  came  out  from  South  Carolina  thirty 
years  before.  These  needed  a  word  of  encou- 
ragement as  they  went  forth  like  helpless  chil- 
dren to  an  untried  life. 

Aunt  Chrissy  alone  was  incorrigible. 

"Let  the  chilluns  go  out  mid  songs  and 
thanksgivin's,"  she  said.  "  Uncle  Dick  and  I 
is  ole  people,  and  will  wait  for  dem  on  de 
shinin'  shore.  Young  Mar's  was  rocked  in  dis 
yer  ole  arms,  and  dey'll  work  for  him  till  dar 
work  is  done." 


THE  BROWNINGS. 


37 


Uncle  Dick  abided  by  Aunt  Chrissy's  de- 
cision, while  their  children  and  grandchildren 
went  forth  to  freedom ;  and  this  is  why  the 
cabins  were  all  deserted  on  Christmas  morning. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WE  will  now  go  back  to  little  Lulu  and 
Teenah,  whom  we  left  making  wreaths  on  the 
piazza. 

When  they  had  completed  them,  they  went 
away  through  the  orangery  to  lay  their  offer- 
ings on  the  new-made  grave.  It  was  a  lovely 
spot.  Purple  passion-flowers  and  yellow  jas- 
mines ran  wild  on  every  side.  They  crept  up 
the  tall  oaks,  hid  in  the  pendulous  mass,  and 
sent  their  perfume  down  like  a  breath  of  love 
to  the  little  motherless  child,  who  threw  her- 
self on  the  green  sod,  and  wept  as  though  her 
heart  were  breaking.  Teenah  wept,  too,  as  she 
strove  to  comfort  her.  She  told  her  her  mamma 
wasn't  sick  any  more,  like  she  was  before; 
that  the  good  angels  had  carried  her  away  to 
their  own  beautiful  country,  and  put  a  gold 


THE  BROWNINGS.  39 

crown  on  her  head,  and  a  harp  in  her  hand  ; 
and  that  when  she  had  learned  all  the  pretty 
stories  there,  and  all  the  sweet  hymns,  she 
would  come  back  for  Lulu. 

"  And  papa  ?  "  asked  the  child. 

"  Yes,  for  Mar's  Alfred  too ;  and  maybe  de 
good  Lord  will  send  for  Teenah." 

"  Oh  !  I  shall  take  you  when  I  go,  Teenah," 
said  Lulu,  very  gravely.  "You  know  I 
couldn't  get  along  without  you ;  I  couldn't 
curl  my  hair,  or  make  wreaths,  or  do  anything ; 
and  mamma  will  wish  to  see  you  when  I  come, 
you  know.  Mamma  loved  you,  Teenah." 

Then  the  little  ones  began  to  sing,  and  sang 
all  the  Christmas  hymns  they  knew,  while  the 
sun  crept  up  the  heavens  until  noon. 

Not  long  after,  Uncle  Dick  might  have  been 
seen  walking  slowly  through  the  shrubbery 
towards  the  oak  grove.  He  had  his  old  fiddle 
under  his  arm,  and  some  cakes  in  his  hands 
which  Aunt  Chrissy  had  sent  for  the  children. 

Lulu  had  sung  herself  to  sleep,  and  lay  with 
her  head  in  Teenah's  lap.  Uncle  Dick  ob- 


40  THE  BROWNINGS. 

served  this,  and  not  wishing  to  disturb  her, 
sat  down  at  a  respectful  distance  and  began  to 
pull  the  strings  of  his  beloved  instrument  in  a 
way  that  made  it  respond  very  sadly.  By  and 
by  he  bowed  his  head  as  though  keeping  time 
to  some  remembered  tune,  then  broke  out  in 
mournful  tenor: 

"  Dar'll  be  no  more  sorrow  dar — 
Dar'll  be  no  more  sorrow  dar  I 
In  heben  above,  whar  all  is  love, 
Dar'll  be  no  more  sorrow  dar  I  " 

The  sound  of  his  voice  aroused  the  little 
sleeper.  She  looked  around  and  whispered  : 
"I  thought  the  angels  were  coming  for  us, 
Teenah  ;  but  it  is  only  Uncle  Dick." 

Seeing  a  shade  of  disappointment  on  Lulu's 
face,  Teenah  said,  laughingly :  "  He's  got  plum- 
cakes  to  do  us  till  dinner.  Look  yer  I  Now, 
Uncle  Dick,  play  us  a  real  lively  tune;  den 
we'll  go  and  watch  for  Mar's  Alfred." 

An  hour  afterwards  the  children  were  sit- 
ting upon  the  wharf,  but  neither  boat  nor 


THE  BROWNINGS.  41 

boatmen  could  be  seen.  The  Christmas  din- 
ner was  ready  and  waiting,  and  Uncle  Dick 
was  walking  backwards  and  forwards  between 
the  kitchen  and  the  landing-place  until  the 
report  of  a  gun  was  heard  in  an  opposite  di- 
rection. 

"  Didn't  tink  Massur  'd  come  that  way,"  he 
said;  and  went  to  see  what  he  could  dis- 
cover. 

He  was  scarcely  out  of  sight,  when  two  men 
with  blue  cockades  on  their  hats  made  their 
appearance  on  the  wharf. 

"  Good  morning,  Cousin  Fred,"  said  Lulu. 

"A  merry  Christmas,  little  fairy!  What 
are  you  looking  for  here  at  the  landing?  " 

"  For  the  boat,  with  papa  and  old  Zack." 

"  Oh,  he  went  this  way,  then,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman in  a  significant  tone  to  his  companion. 
"  How  long  since  he  went  away,  little  cousin  ? " 

Aunt  Chrissy  came  hurrying  down  to  the 
wharf,  shaking  her  head  at  the  children,  and 
asking  a  dozen  questions  of  the  men  before 

they  had  time  to  reply  to  the  first. 
6 


42  TEE  BROWNINGS. 

"  Had  they  heard  a  word  about  de  runaway 
darkeys  ?  Poor  Mar's  Alfred  was  done  worn 
out  hunting  for  dem.  Not  a  soul  left  to  clar 
de  field,  and  all  de  corn  and  sugar  clean  gone 
with  them.  Any  ob  ole  Mar's  Tom's  darkeys 
run  away  to  de  ole  Union  ?  " 

In  the  midst  of  her  questioning  they  beat  a 
hasty  retreat. 

"Chile,"  said  Aunt  Chrissy,  addressing 
Lulu  when  the  men  were  out  of  sight,  "  you 
oughtn't  to  have  tole  dem  dar  men  what  you's 
looking  for." 

"Mamma  taught  me  to  speak  the  truth," 
Lulu  replied,  solemnly. 

"Truth  is  pearls!  Bad  men  is  swine. 
'T  won't  do  nohow  for  to  cast  de  pearls  afore 
de  swine.  My  good  ole  Missus  use  for  to  say 
dat  ar  to  me." 

Lulu  understood  nothing  of  all  this.  She 
only  felt  as  though  she  had  done  wrong  in 
some  way,  and  could  hardly  keep  from  crying, 
especially  when  another  hour  passed  and  her 
father  did  not  come. 


THE  BROWNINGS.  43 

If  the  hours  of  that  afternoon  were  long,  the 
•winter  days  were  very  short ;  and  the  sun  soon 
began  to  sink  in  the  west,  and  the  long  sha- 
dows to  fall  eastward.  Aunt  Chrissy  called 
Lulu  and  Teenah  to  the  kitchen  to  eat  their 
Christmas  pies,  and  said  they  would  have  din- 
ner by  lamplight. 

But  long  after  lamplight  no  one  had  tasted 
dinner  at  Eose  Cottage.  The  turkey  was  cold 
on  the  table ;  all  the  nice  vegetables  which  had 
been  moulded  in  pretty  forms  were  cold  also  : 
only  the  coffee  was  boiling  and  fragrant  on  the 
kitchen  hearth.  The  night  was  dark  and 
hazy ;  and  Uncle  Dick  with  his  lantern  sat 
upon  the  lonely  wharf  waiting  for  his  mas- 
ter until  midnight,  then  went  back  to  the 
kitchen  to  communicate  his  fears  to  Aunt 
Chrissy. 

Lulu  was  asleep  in  her  arms ;  she  could 
not  put  her  to  bed,  she  said,  before  Mar's 
Alfred  came.  Teenah  lay  upon  the  floor 
with  her  back  to  the  fire  thinking  of  the  old 
Christmas  times  when  mirth  and  gladness 


44 


THE  BROWNINGS. 


ruled  the  festival  until  its  close,  and  the 
beloved  Mistress  was  both  gift-giver  and 
angel. 


CHAPTER  V. 

NOT  long  after  midnight,  the  sound  of  cau- 
tious footsteps  was  heard  in  the  path  that  led 
from  the  cottage  to  the  kitchen ;  then  the 
latch-spring  was  drawn  and  the  door  opened. 

"  Bress  God !  Mar's  Alfred,  you  is  safe," 
exclaimed  Aunt  Chrissy. 

Every  one  else  in  the  cabin  was  asleep  ap- 
parently, and  no  one  was  awakened  by  his 
noiseless  entrance.  The  fire  had  burned  down, 
to  a  few  brands,  but  before  it  stood  the  coffee- 
pot ;  and  the  old  woman  made  a  movement  as 
if  to  rise  and  wait  upon  him. 

"  Keep  quiet,  and  let  me  speak  to  you. 
The  guerillas  are  on  my  track  again,  and 
threaten  to  make  clean  work.  My  uncle's 
man,  Tim,  has  revealed  the  whole  plot.  I 
wish  to  speak  of  the  children,  and  no  time  is 


46  THE  BROWNINGS. 

to  be  lost.  You  must  take  them  away  to-night. 
Take  them  to  the  old  cabin  on  Little  Creek, 
and  remain  there  until  you  see  or  hear  from  me. 
Uncle  Dick  can  supply  you  with  fish  and  wild 
game,  and  Tim  will  carry  you  hominy  and 
rice.  Here  is  a  small  trunk  which  contains 
gold  and  my  mother's  jewels.  Preserve 
it,  if  possible,  for  Lulu.  There  are  valuable 
papers  in  the  trunk  also." 

Teenah  was  no  longer  asleep.  Her  large, 
dark  eyes  were  fixed  intently  upon  her  master, 
while  her  ears  drank  in  every  word  he  had 
spoken. 

"  Trust  it  wid  me,"  she  said,  earnestly,  as 
she  arose  and  stood  before. him.  "  I  will  save 
it  for  Miss  Lulu.1' 

"  I  have  to  trust  her  to  your  care,  Teenah. 
Whatever  happen,  promise  me  you  will  never 
forsake  her." 

"  I  would  die  first,  Mar's  Alfred.  I  know 
all  de  paths  in  de  woods  to  Little  Creek ;  and 
my  eyes  are  not  old,  nor  my  ears  deaf,  like 
Uncle  Dick's.  You  may  trust  Lulu  to  me." 


THE  BROWNINGS.  47 

Aunt  Chrissy  put  the  child  gently  in  her 
father's  arms,  then  aroused  Dick,  and  went 
away  to  the  cottage  where  the  Christmas 
dinner  had  been  waiting  for  long  hours  on 
the  table.  Lulu's  little  bed  was  tied  in  a  close 
bundle,  and  a  few  garments  from  her  wardrobe 
were  added  to  it.  A  large  basket  was  next 
filled  with  food  from  the  table  and  a  few 
culinary  utensils ;  then  warm  shawls  were 
found,  and  Lulu  was  wrapped  closely  with- 
out awaking. 

"  What  will  you  do,  Mar's  Alfred?  "  Teenah 
asked  sadly,  as  they  were  making  ready  to 
depart. 

"  Stay  and  defend  the  house  at  all  hazards." 

"Dey'll  tar  you  to  pieces  like  tiger-cats," 
said  Uncle  Dick,  groaning  aloud. 

"I  have  to  die  some  time,  Dick,  and  dare 
them  to  do  their  worst." 

"  Dar's  de  chile,  den  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  child.  My  poor  little  Lulu  I  " 
.he  exclaimed,  pressing  her  to  his  heart,  while 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  "Better  that 


48  THE  BROWNINGS. 

you  were  laid  beside  your  angel  mother,  my 
bird  of  paradise !  Are  you  all  ready  ?  Come, 
then,  I  will  carry  her  a  little  way  and  be  back 
in  time." 

All  through  the  pine  regions  of  the  far 
South  may  be  found  little  hovels  without 
occupants.  They  belong  to  the  cow-hunters. 
Many  of  the  wealthy  planters  have  immense 
herds  of  cattle.  In  the  autumn  these  cattle 
are  all  driven  forth  to  distant  fields  to  subsist 
during  the  winter  months.  When  spring 
arrives,  a  party  of  men  on  horseback,  with 
long  whips  and  trained  dogs,  go  forth  to  hunt 
the  cows  and  bring  them  home  with  their 
young  calves  to  the  plantation-pens.  Some- 
times they  stray  away  many  miles,  and  the 
hunters  are  out  for  days  scouring  the  wood- 
paths  and  green  savannas  before  they  dis- 
cover their  own  mark  ;  for  every  drove  has  its 
owner's  mark.  Saddle-bags  of  provision  and 
blankets  are  taken  by  the  hunters,  and  these 
lonely  lodges  are  their  shelter  from  night  and 
storm.  They  are  commonly  located  near  some 


THE  BROWNINGS.  49 

creek  or  spring  of  water,  and  sometimes  an 
old  camp-kettle  or  tea-kettle  will  be  found 
secreted  within.  "Runaways  are  often,  sur- 
prised and  captured  in  these  desolate  cabins, 
but  never  in  the  season  of  cow-hunting. 

Towards  one  of  those  wretched  cabins  were 
the  footsteps  of  our  fugitives  now  directed.  It 
was  nearly  five  miles  from  the  cottage,  on  the 
bank  of  a  little  creek  bordered  on  one  side  by 
a  green  prairie  meadow,  on  the  other  by  thick 
pine  woods.  The  cabin  stood  in  the  woods. 
Two  years  before  the  family  went  there  for  a 
day's  fishing,  and  had  a  merry  time  of  it. 
Both  Teenah  and  Aunt  Chrissy  were  of  the 
party,  and  Teenah  had  not  forgotten  it.  Often 
in  imagination  had  she  wandered  back  to  that 
solitary  cabin ;  and  when,  at  the  distance  of  a 
mile  or  so  from  the  cottage,  her  master  inquired 
if  they  were  certain  of  the  paths,  Teenah  de- 
scribed every  crook  and  turn  of  the  way  to  his 
entire  satisfaction.  Aunt  Chrissy  had  never  a 
sharp  eye  for  locality  or  direction,  and  Uncle 
Dick  was  long  past  being  trusted  for  anything 


50  THE  BROWNINGS. 

except  correct  intentions.  Though  he  had 
been  a  hundred  times  to  the  spot,  he  would 
very  likely  have  missed  it  in  the  dimness  of 
night. 

"  You  shall  be  pilot,  Teenah,  and  carry  the 
basket  and  trunk  ;  Chrissy  will  take  Lulu  now 
from  me,  and  Uncle  Dick  has  more  than  his 
back  and  arms  full  already.  Be  wary,  and  do 
nothing  until  you  see  or  hear  from  me." 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  the  brow  of  his  half- 
sleeping  child,  whispered  a  blessing  as  he  laid 
her  softly  in  the  old  woman's  arms,  and  turned 
his  footsteps  in  the  direction  of  home. 

The  nights  are  long  at  Christmas,  and  morn- 
ing had  not  yet  broken.  Damp  and  dark  the 
way  lay  before  them ;  and  one  who  has  never 
traversed  a  Southern  forest  can  scarcely  con- 
ceive of  its  intricacies.  Sometimes  at  the 
crossings,  or  where  the  paths  met,  Teenah 
would  make  the  old  people  sit  down  with  their 
burdens,  while  she  went  alone  to  reconnoitre, 
instead  of  taking  the  one  indicated  by  either 
of  them.  In  this  way  their  progress  was  very 


THE  BROWNINGS.  51 

slow;  but  fortunately  they  made  no  diver- 
sions, and  the  first  light  of  morning  found 
them  well  advanced  on  their  way,  within  half 
a  mile  of  their  destination.  Then  for  the  last 
time  they  sat  down  to  rest,  with  their  faces 
turned  backward  towards  the  dear  old  home 
they  had  so  strangely  forsaken. 

"  Better  gone  wid  the  chilluns  when  de  way 
war  open,"  Uncle  Dick  muttered ;  then,  as  if 
expecting  a  reproof  from  his  sterner  compa- 
nion, he  added :  "  Uncle  Dick's  a  fool !  He  can't 
see  noffin  clar  any  more." 

"  Look  away  yonder,"  said  Teenah,  starting 
suddenly  to  her  feet  and  indicating  the  direc- 
tion with  her  finger  ;  "  dar's  fire  up  de  river! 
Don't  you  see  dat  clar,  Uncle  Dick  ?  " 

Poor  old  Dick  groaned  aloud.  "  'Tis  at  de 
plantation,"  he  said  ;  "  and  poor  Mar's  Alfred 
will  be  slewed  like  de  wild  beast  by  grillas. 
Let  me  crawl  my  ole  limbs  back  and  die  wid 
him,  Chrissy  ?  " 

"  Hush  such  nonsense,  ole  man !  Some  people 
has  no  head,  and  dat's  de  fault  I  find  wid  our 


52  THE  BROWNINGS. 

color.  Who  but  Aunt  Chrissy  rocked  him  in 
his  cradle,  and  would  die  now  fur  to  save  him? 
But  we's  udder  things  to  do  now,  Dick  !  Here's 
de  chile's  mouth  to  fill,  and  the  chile's  tender 
heart  to  comfort,  while  our  own  chilluns  has 
gone  out  free,  bress  de  good  Lord !  " 

The  fire  was  evidently  at  the  plantation  ;  and 
by  the  way  it  spread  and  grew  brighter,  there 
was  little  doubt  that  the  buildings  were  all 
lighted. 

"  I  see  plainly  who  is  at  de  bottom  of  it  all," 
said  old  Chrissy.  "  'Tis  dem  dar  triflin' young 
men  who  offer  to  hunt  de  runaways.  Ole  Mar's 
Mclntosh  best  to  send  his  own  son  to  de  army 
when  he  talk  so  bery  loud  bout  patrotism." 

"  De  grillas  mostly  no  account,  white  trash," 
responded  Dick.  "  Dey  need  Mar's  Fred  to  Vise 
um  whar  to  strike.  De  ole  man's  money  helps 
de  young  man's  wit  right  smart." 

Uncle  Dick  was  as  shrewd  a  philosopher  and 
reasoned  as  soundly  as  Dickens  when  he  said : 
"  Patent-boots,  lemon-colored  kid  gloves,  and 
a  fur  coat-collar,  assist  jokes  materially." 


THE  BROWNINGS.  53 

For  some  time  the  Heir  of  Mclntosh  Grove 
had  been  no  favorite  at  the  cottage.  The 
feeblest-minded  servant  there  .  could  discover 
that  his  preaching  and  his  practice  were  at 
variance.  None  could  talk  secession  louder 
than  he ;  but  while  other  young  men  had 
taken  up  arms  and  joined  the  insurgents,  the 
eighth  month  of  the  war  found  him  still  only 
an  idle  vindicator  of  the  cause  at  home.  He 
was  on  a  journey  of  jpressiog  necessity,  so  at 
least  it  was  urged  wrien  the  first  volunteers 
left  the  county ;  then  a  most  unfortunate 
sprain  had  disabled  his  wrist  for  months  ;  but 
while  the  old  gentleman's  funds  were  contri- 
buted freely,  the  son's  cockade  and  the  son's 
courage  could  not  be  questioned.  Rumor  said 
he  was  in  the  councils  of  the  guerillas,  if  not 
in  the  camp  of  the  Confederates. 

The  night  walk  ended  silently  and  sorrow- 
fully. Little  Lulu,  after  such  a  night  of  troubled 
half-consciousness,  awoke  in  the  wretched  cabin. 
Aunt  Chrissy  had  lighted  a  fire  and  swung  a 
camp-kettle,  not  upon  the  hearth,  fbr  the  cabin 


54  THE  BROWNINGS. 

had  neither  chimney  nor  hearth,  but  out  be- 
neath a  large  pine  in  front  of  the  door.  There 
she  made  coffee,  roasted  sweet  potatoes  and 
fried  bacon,  all  of  which  they  had  brought  in 
their  store  basket  from  the  plantation.  There 
was  a  smaller  basket  of  delicacies  for  Lulu, 
part  of  the  Christmas-turkey,  a  glass  of  jelly, 
and  some  cakes;  the  last,  Aunt  Chrissy  affirm- 
ed, which  the  poor  child  might  see  for  many  a 

day. 

*9 
Teenah   found   a   small    piece    of    broken 

board,  which  she  set  up  and  covered  with  a 
napkin.  She  called  it  Lulu's  table.  Upon 
it  the  child's  first  meal  was  spread  in  the 
forest. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NOTHING  could  exceed  Lulu's  surprise  on 
awaking  to  find  herself  dressed  in  such  a  wild, 
strange  place.  She  began  to  cry,  when  Teenah 
said  :  "  Isn't  it  nice,  Lulu,  to  come  out  yer  and 
see  all  de  pretty  birds  in  de  woods,  and  more 
flowers  dan  we  could  ever  pull  ?  Uncle  Dick 
is  gone  to  fish  for  mullet,  and  we  will  fish  for 
sheep-heads  in  de  creek.  You  shall  have  a 
little  line  all  to  yourself,  and  when  your  papa 
comes  can  tell  him  about  it." 

Such  soothing  words  and  promises  calmed 
the  wondering  child.  When  breakfast  was 
eaten  they  went  out  for  a  ramble  in  the  pine 
woods,  Teenah  forgetting  how  very  weary  and 
footsore  she  was  in  her  efforts  to  amuse  her 
little  charge,  who  was  more  precious  to  her  in 
her  misfortune  than  ever  before. 


56  THE  BROWNINGS. 

All  the  morning  they  plucked  wild  flowers, 
and  braided  them  into  wreaths,  or  listened  to 
the  mocking-birds  calling  to  one  another  from 
tree  to  tree,  or  watched  the  play  of  the  gay 
lizards  until  the  sound  of  something  like  a 
horn  recalled  them  to  the  cabin.  Uncle  Dick 
had  found  an  old  conch-shell  which  had  been 
left  behind  by  the  cow-hunters,  and  was  trying 
to  get  music  out  of  it,  for  music  was  the 
solace  of  his  weary  life;  and  the  beloved 
fiddle  had  been  left  on  the  old  shelf  at 
home. 

At  night  the  cabin  was  lighted  with  pine 
knots,  and  they  all  sat  down  together  upon  the 
rude  seats  they  bad  constructed,  and  told 
stories  until  Lulu  fell  asleep  in  Teenah's  arms 
and  was  laid  upon  her  little  bed.  A  mosquito 
curtain  was  then  carefully  drawn  around  her, 
and  Teenah  lay  down  at  her  feet  almost  worn 
out  with  fatigue  and  anxiety. 

Great  was  their  joy  on  awaking  the  next 
morning  to  find  a  familiar  friend  stretched  out 
on  the  rough  floor  beside  them.  It  was  dear 


THE  BROWNINGS.  57 

faithful  old  Zack,  though  how  he  had  discover- 
ed their  retreat  was  a  mystery  to  them.  He 
licked  their  hands  and  barked  and  howled  in 
answer  to  their  caresses,  until  Teenah  declared 
he  had  gone  crazy  for  joy. 

Zack  was  a  noble  hound,  old  and  sagacious, 
and  had  long  been  the  especial  pet  of  the 
household.  He  used  to  accompany  the  young 
mistress  in  her  walks  over  the  plantation,  and 
she  taught  him  to  carry  her  basket  in  his 
mouth.  He  had  been  known  to  come  home 
from  a  hunt  with  a  wounded  bird  for  Lulu ; 
and  once  when  a  cross  pig  broke  into  the  poul- 
try-yard, and  swallowed  one  young  chicken, 
and  bit  and  lamed  another,  he  took  the  poor 
lame  little  thing  up  tenderly  in  his  mouth  and 
carried  it  to  Aunt  Chrissy,  knowing  full  well 
she  would  take  care  of  it.  There  was  another 
thing  that  endeared  him  more  than  all  the  rest 
to  his  master.  After  the  death  of  the  beloved 
young  Mistress  had  desolated  the  cottage,  old 
Zack  was  missed  from  his  watch-post  on  the 
piazza;  search  was  made,  and  the  faithful  crea- 


58  THE  BROWNINGS. 

ture  was  found  stretched  beside  the  new-made 
grave.  For  months  he  held  his  night-watch 
there ;  and  not  until  the  lawless  guerillas  be- 
gan their  depredations  did  he  go  back  to  his  old 
place. 

When  Alfred  Browning  returned  to  his  soli- 
tary dwelling  that  night,  Zack  met  him  with 
unusual  demonstrations,  running  up  and  down 
the  piazza  and  around  the  house  as  though 
there  was  something  to  tell.  His  master  fol- 
lowed him,  saying :  "  What  is  it,  old  doggy  ? 
Tell  me  what  it  is,  good  fellow  ?  " 

But  though  Zack  tried  hard  to  tell,  and  his 
master  followed  him  closely,  nothing  was  dis- 
covered ;  everything  around  the  premises  was 
as  silent  as  death.  After  examining  his  pistol 
to  see  that  it  was  all  right  in  case  of  emergen- 
cy, he  threw  himself  down  upon  the  hall 
lounge  and  soon  fell  asleep. 

He  was  aroused  by  the  barking  of  the  dog. 
A  bright  light  was  shining  through  the  hall 
window,  and  a  scent  of  smoke  was  in  the  air. 
Grasping  his  pistol  firmly,  he  hastened  to  the 


THE  BROWNINGS.  59 

door,  and  discovered  flames  bursting  from  a 
dozen  cabins.  Old  Zack  was  at  his  side  bark- 
ing furiously,  and  the  two  went  together 
through  the  gate  which  led  to  the  negro  quar- 
ters. Not  a  person  was  to  be  seen ;  but  a 
shout  behind  them  soon  revealed  the  culprits. 
Several  ill-dressed  men  stood  on  the  back 
piazza,  seen  plainly  by  the  burning  pine-knot 
which  one  of  their  number  was  in  the  act  of 
applying  to  the  cottage. 

With  a  sudden  rush  and  bound,  master  and 
dog  cleared  the  intervening  space,  and  the  next 
instant  the  torch-bearer  fell  dead  among  his 
comrades.  Zack  held  another  of  the  miscreants 
fast  by  the  throat,  while  the  trusty  revolver 
felled  a  third.  At  that  moment  a  stout  negro, 
armed  with  a  club,  rushed  from  the  kitchen 
and  began  to  deal  blows  upon  the  others,  who, 
discharging  their  pistols  as  they  went,  fled 
through  the  shrubbery. 

One  shot  took  effect  in  Browning's  right 
arm,  wounding  it  severely.  The  negro,  pre- 
serving a  rigid  silence,  ripped  open  the  sleeve, 


60  THE  BROWNINGS. 

and  bound  the  wounded  arm  firmly  with  a 
handkerchief. 

Zack  still  held  his  man  fast,  with  the  blood 
streaming  from  the  wound  inflicted  by  his 
teeth,  while  his  two  stout  forepaws  upon  the 
fellow's  breast  prevented  his  efforts  to  draw  his 
pistol. 

"  I  will  take  care  of  him  now,  Zack,"  said 
Browning,  in  a  voice  as  cool  and  cairn  as 
though  nothing  unusual  had  occurred.  "  De- 
liver your  weapons,  coward  !  " 

"  I  cannot  get  at  'em,"  he  said,  in  a  strangled 
tone;  "  the  hound  is  killing  me." 

"Serving  you  right,  then!  Zack,  down, 
my  good  fellow  !  " 

The  dog  obeyed,  and  the  man  yielded  his 
knife  and  pistol. 

"  I  think  I  know  you,"  continued  Browning ; 
"  and  you  are  the  last  man  I  would  have  picked 
out  for  so  dirty  a  job.  How  have  I  injured 
you,  that  you  would  revenge  thus  ?  " 

"You  never  done  me  no  injury,  Mister 
Alfred,  and  it  was  your  blessed  wife  what  took 


THE  BROWNINGS.  61 

care  of  my  ole  mother  when  she  had  the 
misery  in  her  side.  I  was  dead-drunk  on 
your  own  kin's  whiskey  when  I  joined  the 
Rangers,  as  they  call  themselves.  I  couldn't 
bear  to  go  away  to  camp  and  leave  the  ole 
woman  to  starve  to  home." 

"  So  you  sold  yourself  to  burn,  and  plunder, 
and  steal !  Once  I  could  have  fed  your  old 
mother,  Jerry ;  but  you  have  taken  my  corn, 
and  bacon,  and  sugar,  and  driven  off  my  cattle 
to  the  camp  of  the  rebels.  Not  satisfied  with 
that,  you  would  to-night  have  burned  my 
house  above  my  head.  May  God  forgive  you 
so  dastardly  an  act !  " 

"  On  my  knees,  Mr.  Browning,  I  tell  you  I 
didn't  have  no  hand  in  that  first  business  at  all. 
It  was  only  Christmas-eve  I  was  invited  down 
to  the  grove  to  take  egg-nog  and  git  a  few 
comforts  for  the  ole  woman.  I  didn't  calcu- 
late to  jine  'urn ;  but  yesterday  they  come  and 
said  how  my  name  was  on  their  paper,  and  I'd 
got  to  stand  it,  or  start  right  straight  off  for 
camp." 


62  THE  BROWNINGS. 

"  If  what  you  say  is  true,  Jerry  Wilkes,  I 
forgive  you." 

A  voice  from  the  darkey  whispered :  "  It  is 
true,  Mar's  Alfred." 

Browning  continued : 

"  You  see,  Jerry,  I  have  made  bloody  work 
of  it.  One  of  your  companions  lies  there  dead 
as  a  herring ;  another  is  badly  wounded.  Assist 
me  to  take  him  into  the  house  now ;  then  go  for 
a  surgeon.  No  time  is  to  be  lost.  Saddle 
Billy  and  ride  in  haste,  or  it  may  be  all  over 
with  the  villain." 

The  wounded  man  was  then  lifted  tenderly, 
and  conveyed  to  the  same  soft  lounge  on  which 
Browning  was  sleeping  an  hour  before.  His 
groans  were  painful  to  listen  to,  and  Jerry  was 
again  urged  to  go  quickly  for.  the  nearest  sur- 
geon. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  I  SAY,  Mar's  Alfred,  you  done  'zactly  right 
not  to  be  too  hard  on  Jerry,"  said  the  negro, 
as  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  rattled  down  the 
carriage-way  towards  the  public  road.  "  Mar's 
Fred  git  de  boys  drunk  as  ole  debil !  I  watch 
'urn." 

"  Plow  came  you  here  to-night,  Tim,  just  at 
the  time  you  were  wanted  ?  " 

"  I  'spect  mischief,  and  come  to  warn  ole 
Dick.  When  I  found  him  done  gone  I  put  on 
his  ole  clofes  and  made  myself  ole  man  like 
him,  else  dis  yer  darkey's  neck  mightn't  be 
warf  ony  de  use  ob  a  halter.  Tole  you  yisday, 
Mar's  Alfred,  what  to  'spect.  De  trute  is,  dey 
say  you  is  turned  abalishoner,  and  we  darkeys 
gwine  to  fight  for  you  and  ole  Linkum." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Browning. 


64  THE  BROWNINGS. 

"But  when  you  go  home  now,  will  you  not  be 
suspected  ?  " 

"  Look  out  for  dat  ar.  You  know  my  ooman 
libs  up  de  riber  to  ole  Gibbses.  I  ask  Miss 
Ally  for  pass  to  go  and  see  Rosa.  Dis  yer's  it. 
Den  I  brought  round  here  in  time  for  de  fight." 

"  You  are  all  right,  Tim,  and  a  brave 
fellow." 

The  surgeon  came  and  dressed  the  guerilla's 
wounds,  which  he  pronounced  dangerous. 
Then  Browning  had  his  own  arm  attended  to, 
and  advised  Jerry  to  have  his  neck  examined  ; 
but  he  said  he  had  washed  away  the  blood  and 
found  it  was  only  a  scratch.  The  truth  was, 
he  was  too  much  ashamed  of  his  night's  work, 
and  too  thankful  for  his  escape,  to  heed  the 
slight  injury  he  had  received. 

The  wounded  man  moaned  all  day  long,  and 
Browning  sat  beside  him,  wet  his  lips,  and 
gave  him  every  attention  he  would  have  be- 
stowed upon  a  suffering  friend  or  brother. 
His  first  indignation  had  all  passed  away,  and 
the  lessons  of  the  Good  Teacher  fell  upon  his 


THE  BROWNINGS.  65 

mind  with  new  weight.  "  But  I  say  unto  you, 
love  your  enemies :  bless  them  that  curse  you ; 
do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  aod  pray  for 
them  that  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute 
you,  that  you  may  be  the  children  of  your 
Father  which  is  in  Heaven,  for  He  maketh  His 
sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  the  good,  and 
sendeth  rain  upon  the  just  and  upon  the 
unjust."  It  was  like  a  voice  from  the 
skies  speaking  to  a  heart  overburdened  with 
grief. 

Jerry  had  gone  away,  "just  to  ease  the 
mind  of  the  old  woman,"  he  said,  promising  to 
return  and  take  care  of  the  wounded  man  at 
night ;  and  the  faithful  watcher  and  the  uncon- 
scious sufferer  were  the  only  human  beings  in 
the  cottage.  Xo  one  had  been  near  to  remove 
the  body  of  the  dead  man,  which  was  still 
lying  on  the  piazza  where  he  fell.  But  towards 
noon  a  cart  came  down  the  avenue  and  entered 
the  great  gate.  Two  men  accompanied  it, 
Zack  went  to  the  door,  and  returned  whining 
to  his  master,  who  ordered  him  to  be  quiet. 


66  THE  BROWNINGS. 

He  understood  the  order,  and  lay  down  beside 
him  contented. 

The  body 'was  laid  upon  straw  in  the  cart, 
and  driven  away  without  a  word. 

It  was  drawing  towards  evening  when  the 
injured  man  opened  his  eyes  for  the  first  time 
with  a  look  of  consciousness.  Fastening  them 
upon  Browning,  he  inquired  feebly:  "Where 
ami?" 

"  At  Rose  Cottage,"  was  the  reply. 

His  eyes  closed  again,  and  he  remained  silent 
for  some  time,  until  his  attendant  wet  his  lips, 
as  he  had  done  all  day  at  frequent  intervals. 

"Are  you  Alfred  Browning?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  the  person  you  mention." 

"  Where  are  the  boys  ?  " 

"  Fled,  all  but  one,  who  has  been  carted  off." 

"  Who  brought  me  in  here?  " 

"I  helped  to  do  it.  You  see,  with  my  right 
arm  shot  through,  I  could  not  do  it  alone." 

"What  time  is  it?" 

"Four  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Are  you 
feeling  better  ?  " 


THE  BROWNINGS.  67 

"  I  don't  know.  I  feel  like  I  was  dreaming." 
He  closed  his  eyes  again  and  murmured  to 
himself  indistinctly.  Who  the  poor  man  was 
Browning  could  not  tell,  but  evidently  no  per- 
son who  belonged  in  the  vicinity.  There  was 
something  in  his  speech  which  seemed  to  belie 
the  extreme  rusticity  of  his  garb ;  something, 
too,  in  the  tone  of  the  voice  not  wholly  strange, 
and  yet  he  was  not  sure.  Between  his  own 
weakness  and  weariness  Browning  also  felt  not 
very  unlike  a  person  in  a  bewildering  dream. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

JERRY  came  back  that  night  as  he  promised, 
and  assumed  the  care  of  the  wounded  guerilla, 
insisting  that  Browning  should  go  away  and 
get  some  sleep. 

He  went  away,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  went 
forth  into  the  fresh  evening  air,  and  stood  amid 
the  ashes  of  his  burnt  cabins.  Not  a  log  of 
them  remained ;  only  the  stable,  kitchen,  and 
cottage  had  escaped  the  conflagration,  and  these 
had  been  saved  almost  by  a  miracle.  Was  it 
likely,  he  asked  himself,  that  his  enemies  would 
be  satisfied  with  their  last  night's  work,  and 
leave  him  thenceforward  in  peace  ?  Could  his 
little,  motherless  child  be  safe  again  in  their 
once  happy  home?  He  knew  too  well  the 
unscrupulous  character  of  the  men  he  had 
to  contend  with  to  believe  it.  That  brand 


THE  BROWNINGS.  69 

of  abolitionism  meant  persecution  to  the 
death. 

But  Alfred  Browning  was  not  an  abolitionist. 
His  belief  in  slavery  was  hereditary,  and  he  had 
never  cared  to  question  it.  It  came  from  a 
long  line  of  ancestors,  all  slave-owners.  In  a 
moral  point  of  view,  no  merit  beyond  that  of 
patriotism  could  be  attached  to  his  enfranchise- 
ment of  his  servants.  He  loved  his  country 
truly,  the  whole  of  it  more  than  a  section  ;  and 
there  was  no  power  on  earth  which  could  force 
him  to  raise  a  weapon  against  it. 

Musing  upon  the  sad  uncertainty  of  the 
future,  his  steps  followed  unconsciously  the 
well-worn  footpath  to  his  wife's  grave.  Silence 
and  peace  brooded  over  it  with  wings  like  a 
dove.  No  jar  of  earthly  discord  would  ever- 
more disturb  the  beloved  sleeper.  "  Better 
thus,"  he  sighed,  "  than  to  have  tarried  longer 
here.  In  your  own  saintly  footsteps,  my  darling, 
lead  the  little  one  and  me  to  your  heavenly  rest! " 

For  nearly  an  hour  he  sat  absorbed  in  silent 
meditation.  Old  Zack  was  beside  him,  with 


70  THE  BROWNINGS. 

one  paw  resting  upon  the  grave,  and  the  other 
upon  his  master's  knee,  looking  intelligently 
into  his  face. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  her,"  his  master 
said,  breaking  the  long  silence  with  a  caress  as 
he  rose  to  depart.  "  Nothing  can  forget  her. 
Come,  my  good  dog ;  I  must  send  you  to  Lulu." 

They  went  back  through  the  orangery.  The 
fruit  was  just  ripening,  and  he  plucked  the 
fairest  he  could  discover  in  the  dim  light  of 
evening.  These  were  carried  into  the  cottage 
and  put  into  one  of  Lulu's  little  baskets.  They 
then  left  the  house  again,  and  Browning  took 
the  same  path  which  he  had  taken  the  night 
before.  Zack  ran  with  his  nose  to  the  earth, 
snuffing  the  air  until  he  caught  the  track,  when 
he  barked  joyfully. 

"  You  have  found  it,  have  you  ?  "  said  his 
master.  "  Take  the  basket,  then,  and  go.  Be 
careful,  and  don't  spill." 

The  dog  opened  his  jaws  for  the  trust,  and 
bounded  away.  Early  the  next  morning  Aunt 
Chrissy  found  him  at  the  cabin  door  with  his 


THE  BROWNINGS.  71 

basket ;  a  sure  token  that,  whatever  else  might 
have  happened  at  the  plantation,  the  master 
was  safe. 

The  children  ate  the  oranges  with  their 
breakfast,  talking  all  the  while  to  the  dog  as 
though  they  had  not  seen  him  for  a  month. 

"  When  is  papa  coming  ?  "  asked  Lulu ;  "  and 
why  did  he  send  us  away  from  the  pretty 
home?" 

Zack  couldn't  tell,  but  jumped  and  barked 
as  loudly  as  he  could ;  and  his  coming  made 
Lulu  happy  all  day. 

That  same  day  the  wounded  man  lay  dying 
at  the  cottage.  His  injury  proved  too  severe 
for  the  skill  of  the  surgeon  or  the  care  of  his 
kind  attendant.  All  night  he  wandered  in 
mind,  and  towards  morning  appeared  to  be 
sinking.  Jerry  was  dispatched  again  for  the 
physician,  who  said  at  a  glance  there  was  no 
hope.  The  poor  stranger  was  dying  unrecog- 
nised, if  not  uncared  for. 

"  I  think,  Jerry,"  said  Browning,  when  they 
were  alone  again,  "  that  you  know  more  of  this 


72  THE.  BR  0  \VNWGS. 

man  than  you  are  inclined  to  tell.  If  he  has 
friends  in  the  neighborhood,  it  should  be  our 
duty  to  inform  them  of  his  condition." 

"  We  took  a  black  oath  to  keep  mum,  sir. 
This  man,  'specially,  didn't  wish  to  be  found  out 
in  such  a  business.  He's  ben  gone  away  from 
these  parts  for  many  years,  and  got  right  smart 
rich,  they  say,  down  in  Texas.  He  jus'  run 
down  here  to  see  his  sister,  on  his  way  to  join 
the  army.  You  know'd  him  when  you  was 
both  boys,  I  reckon.  I  ain't  seen  him  since  he 
turned  fifer  and  run  away  to  Mexico  to  the 
war,  more'n  sixteen  years  ago." 

"  Ah,  Jack  Thomas,  my  old  school-fellow !  I 
remember  him  well,"  said  Browning.  "  And 
a  brave  boy  he  was,  too !  " 

11  A  leetle  bit  rapscallious,  Jack  was !  Liked 
advenlurin?  better'n  buttered  hominy,  and  could 
be  put  up  to  a'most  anything,  just  as  they  put 
him  up  to  this  yer  work,  which  was  none  of 
his  own  planning." 

"Tell  me  how  it  all  happened,  Jerry.  I 
must  know ! " 


THE  BROWNINGS.  73 

"  Well,  then,  Jack's  mother's  died,  you  know, 
since  he's  went  away,  and  his  sister's  married 
and  gone  down  to  St.  Mary's  to  live.  He 
brought  up  to  the  Grove  Christmas  evening, 
just  as  the  boys  was  drinking  their  egg-nog 
and  getting  merry.  Mr.  Fred  was  mighty 
glad  to  see  him,  and  said  he'd  come  in  the  very 
nick  o'  time,  as  there  was  some  fan  on  the 
carpet,  a — abolition  nest  to  break  up  (beggin' 
your  pardon,  Mister  Alfred,  them's  his  very 
words).  He  said  the  boys  would  do  all  the 
dirty  work,  and  wanted  a  leader;  just  such  a 
bold  Texan  ranger  as  he  was,  and  one  whom 
nobody  around  there  would  be  likely  to  know. 
You  know  Mister  Fred  couldn't  do  nothin'  his- 
self  but  make  egg-nog  on  account  of  that  lame 
wrist ;  and  when  the  men  had  drunk  enough, 
they  was  ready  to  agree  to  anything.  There 
was  ten  on  'em  all,  lettin'  alone  the  new-comer 
and  myself,  who  wasn't  one  on  'em  and  never 
meant  to  be.  They  was  to  meet  in  the  nigger 
chapel  the  next  night  at  midnight ;  but  when 

the  time  come,  more'n  half  on  'em  was  off  some- 
10 


74  THE  BROWNINGS. 

wheres  else  plundering  cattle,  which,  brings 
better  pay  than  burning  housens,  and  don't 
sound  so  bad  neither. 

u  After  waitin'  to  the  chapel  raore'n  an  hour, 
some  was  in  favor  of  backin'  straight  out  like 
the  rest  had  done  ;  but  Mister  Fred  said  right 
off:  '  No  I  Let  two  men  go  up  and  reconnoitre, 
and  if  everything  was  quiet  like,  there  was  men 
enough  there  to  do  the  job.'  So  two  of  the 
boys  set  out,  and  when  they  come  back  report- 
ed there  wasn't  a  soul  on  the  whole  premises. 
Every  man,  ooman,  and  child  was  gone  off  to 
the  Union  folks.  Nothing  was  left  on  the  plan- 
tation but  a  dog  and  two  horses. 

"By  this  time  we'd  all  took  drink  enough  to 
git  mighty  high.  Jack  changed  his  fine  broad- 
cloth for  a  coarse  rig,  and  we  started.  You 
know  how  it  ended ;  and  ef  some  folks  had  got 
shot  in  place  of  Jack  Thomas,  'twouldn't  seemed 
to  be  much  matter.  Jack  never  knowed  he 
was  coming  to  injure  an  old  acquaintance." 

"  Poor  fellow !  Did  my  uncle  know  any- 
thing about  the  project,  Jerry  ?  " 


THE  BROWNINGS.  75 

"Not  to  my  mind,  Mr.  Alfred.  Madam 
and  him  and  the  young  ladies  drove  away  in 
the  carriage  in  the  afternoon.  The  old  gentle- 
man is  death  to  the  bone  on  abolitionists ;  but  I 
don't  think,  let  him  talk  as  he  will,  he'd  be  as 
hard  agin  his  own  kin  as  the  young  one." 

Browning  thought,  what  he  had  quite  too  fine 
a  sense  of  propriety  to  utter,  that  his  cousin 
owed  him  an  old  grudge.  He  knew  he  had 
never  in  his  heart  forgiven  him  for  winning 
the  hand  of  Ellen  Hunter;  and  although, 
at  the  time,  his  words  of  congratulation  had 
been  as  loud  as  the  loudest,  they  had  never 
appeared  to  him  to  be  sincere. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

AT  noon  a  visitor  arrived  at  the  cottage.  It 
was  Ally  Mclntosh,  looking  just  as  pretty  and 
blooming  as  when  we  first  met  her  in  New 
Hampshire  half-a-dozen  years  ago.  She  said 
they  had  that  morning  returned  from  a  visit  to 
her  sister  at  Spring  Lake.  They  heard  of  the 
fire  on  their  way,  and  she  had  heard  some 
other  things  from,  the  servants  since  their 
arrival  home.  "Would  Cousin  Alfred  be  good 
enough  to  tell  her  all  about  it  ? 

He  was  frank  enough  to  tell  her  the  truth 
as  far  as  he  understood  it,  leaving  her  to  make 
her  own  inferences.  She  listened  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  tearful  eyes. 

"  Just  as  I  expected,"  she  said,  stamping 
her  foot  impatiently.  "  I  quarrel  for  you,  Cou- 
sin Alfred,  every  day,  and  would  help  you  if  I 


THE  BROWNINGS.  77 

could.  Fred  is  a  grand  coward,  and  has 
proved  it  now  more  clearly  than  ever  before. 
You  did  not  say  it,  but  I  know  he  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  this ;  and  Tim  knows  it  too.  If 
he  doesn't  just  march  off1  to  camp  now,  I'll  tell 
father  every  word  about  it,  and  all  the  world 
besides  !  His  wrist  is  no  more  lame  than  mine 
is,  and  never  has  been  !  Fred  is  a  sneak,  and 
I  am  ashamed  of  him." 

At  the  close  of  this  tempest  of  words,  Ally 
burst  into  tears.  Her  cousin  strove  to  com- 
fort her. 

"  I  say,  Cousin  Alfred,  I  cannot  help  crying 
when  I  am  so  indignanf.  If  I  were  a  man  I 
suppose  I  should  swear.  It  was  bad  enough 
to  hear  you  called  an  abolitionist  every  day, 
and  dear  Cousin  Ellen  accused  of  being  your 
teacher ;  but  who  ever  thought  of  a  Mclntosh 
condescending  to  counsel  with  thieves  and  rob- 
bers !  They  say  you  shot  one  or  two  of  the 
rascals ;  I  wish  in  my  heart  you  had  made  a 
clean  job  of  it.  If  I  had  been  near  I  would 
have  helped  you.  Did  I  understand  you,  you 


78  THE  BROWNINGS. 

had  one  of  the  wounded  wretches  on  your 
hands?" 

"  Come  in,  Ally,  and  see." 

She  pulled  a  cluster  of  white  roses  from  the 
trellis,  and  followed  him  through  the  hall  into 
the  back  parlor,  where  the  sufferer  had  been 
removed.  The  physician  and  Jerry  Wilkes 
were  both  with  him.  He  had  had  a  morning 
of  intense  suffering,  but  it  was  almost  over. 
He  recognised  Browning,  who  spoke  to  him 
kindly,  and  asked  him  if  he  had  any  wish  to 
communicate. 

"  To  be  buried  beside  my  good  mother,"  he 
replied  feebly  ;  "  and  don't  let  my  sister  know 
I  met  such  a  fool's  death.  It  would  break  her 
heart." 

Noticing  Ally  for  the  first  time  now,  he 
asked : 

"  Is  that  Mary?  She  looks  like  an  angel. 
She  was  a  little  child  when  I  left  home — a 
dear  little  child  I " 

His  mind  wandered  again.  He  was  away 
in  Mexico,  fighting  over  his  battles  there, 


THE  BROWNINGS.  79 

huzzaing  for  the  old  flag,  and  planting  it  on 
the  heights  of  Chapultepec. 

"  'Tis  hard  work,  comrade,"  he  said,  address- 
ing himself  to  Browning,  who  stood  support- 
ing his  head ;  "  but  then  we  are  bound  to 
win." 

Cold  drops  of  perspiration  were  on  his  fore- 
head, and  a  blueness  was  creeping  over  his 
lips.  The  doctor  felt  his  pulse,  and  whispered 
Browning  to  lead  his  cousin  from  the  room. 
Neither  spoke  as  they  went,  but  Ally  wept  as 
though  her  heart  would  burst. 

Death  is  a  most  eloquent  preacher  of  human 
brotherhood.  No  matter  how  widely  different 
our  earthly  interests,  or  how  far  removed  our 
earthly  lot,  by  this  one  token,  "  Dust  thou  art, 
and  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return,"  are  we  the 
children  of  the  same  common  parent  on  earth, 
and  the  same  Father  in  heaven. 

"  It  always  seemed  to  me  that  men  who 
would  engage  in  infamous  acts  must  be  scoun- 
drels or  barbarians,"  said  Ally,  after  an  inter- 
val of  silence.  "Whatever  that  man  may 


80  THE  BROWNINGS. 

have   done,  he  doesn't  look  as  though  meant 
for  either." 

"  He  was  a  noble  fellow  by  nature,  Ally, 
and  would  perhaps  have  been  such  with  other 
influences ;  but  poor,  and  proud,  and  father- 
less, has  led  many  a  high  spirit  into  error. 
The  poor  fellow  had  to  jostle  his  way  in  the 
world,  and  with  unscrupulous  men  has  grown 
unscrupulous.  I  feel  no  resentment  towards 
him.  The  greater  guilt  lies  elsewhere." 

"Fred  shall  come  and  see  what  he  has 
done,"  responded  Ally,  with  spirit ;  "  and  the 
man  shall  be  buried  decently.  I  can  promise 
father  for  that." 

"  You  may  promise  me  for  that.  I  claim 
the  privilege  of  laying  him  by  his  mother." 

"  Cousin  Alfred,  I  have  not  seen  Lulu  !  " 

"  I  have  sent  her  away  to  a  place  of  safety. 
The  contest  may  not  yet  be  over.  They  are 
filling  another  regiment  in  the  county,  you 
know." 

"  That  arm  will  free  you  now,  cousin." 

"  I  ask  no  such  exemption.     My  principles 


THE  BROWNINGS.  81 

will  for  ever  prevent  me  from  taking  arms 
against  my  country." 

Ally's  horse  and  servant  stood  waiting  at 
the  gate.  Her  cousin  assisted  her  to  mount, 
and  she  rode  slowly  and  sorrowfully  away 
through  the  pine  woods  which  lay  between 
the  two  plantations.  Before  reaching  home 
she  met  her  father,  a  handsome,  grey-haired 
man,  who  sat  in  his  saddle  with  all  the  ease 
and  grace  of  youth.  He,  too,  had  heard  of  the 
tragic  events  at  the  cottage,  and  was  riding 
over  to  satisfy  himself  of  the  truth.  Probably 
his  own  conscience  was  not  quite  easy  on  the 
subject ;  for,  though  he  would  have  scorned 
such  measures  as  his  son  had  adopted,  he  had 
not  been  sparing  in  his  epithets  and  denuncia- 
tion of  his  more  loyal  nephew. 

Ally  was  glad  to  meet  him,  and,  sending  the 
servant  forward,  she  gave  free  expression  to 
her  feelings. 

"  Go,  and  look  for  yourself,"  she  said  at  last. 
"  See  the  cabins  all  in  ashes,  the  store-houses 

emptied  and  burned,  and  the  family  fled  in 
11 


82  THE  BROWNINGS. 

terror.  Worse  than  all  this,  behold  a  stranger 
deceived  unto  death.  I  tell  you,  father,  I 
blush  to  bear  the  name  of  Mclntosh,  for  my 
brother  is  both  a  villain  and  a  coward." 

"  You  are  fatigued  and  excited,  my  daugh- 
ter !  Go  home  and  repose  yourself,  and  I  will 
see  how  affairs  stand  at  the  cottage." 

"I  will  tell  you,  sir,  what  must  be  done 
immediately.  Tim  must  be  sent  to  prepare 
the  body  of  the  stranger  for  burial,  as  no 
soul  is  there  to  do  a  thing,  except  that  booby 
of  a  Jerry  Wilkes,  who  looks  as  ashamed  as  a 
dog  that  has  been  hung  and  cut  down.  Then 
a  messenger  must  be  dispatched  to  St.  Mary's 
for  the  poor  fellow's  sister.  Oh,  sir,  if  you  had 
only  heard  him  speak  of  his  sister,  and  beg 
she  might  never  be  told  of  the  way  in  which 
he  came  to  his  death  !  Two  men  must  also 
go  and  dig  a  grave  beside  the  widow  Thomas, 
for  he  asked  to  be  buried  close  to  his  good  old 
mother." 

"  Poor  Jack,"  said  her  father,  brushing  away 
a  tear.  "  Do  everything  you  like,  Ally." 


THE  BROWNINGS. 


83 


"  There  is  another  thing  that  must  be  done, 
sir,  before  the  week  closes,"  and  she  dropped 
her  voice  and  spoke  huskily  ;  "  Fred  must  go  to 
camp,  or,  as  little  sympathy  as  I  have  for  the 
cause,  I  will  put  on  his  clothes  and  go  myself 
for  the  honor  of  the  family.  I  give  you 
warning,  father ;  and  you  know  I  never  have 
spoken  falsely." 

He  regarded  her  for  a  moment  without  reply, 
then  lifted  his  hat  and  bowed  as  they  parted. 
Every  vestige  of  color  had  fled  from  the  proud 
man's  face ;  he  was  pale  as  ashes. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  burial  took  place  the  next  morning. 
The  few  neighbors  who  had  known  the  widow 
Thomas  and  her  children  were  apprised,  and 
assembled  to  follow  the  young  man  to  his 
grave.  The  Mclntosh  carriage  followed  the 
hearse  with  the  afflicted  sister,  but  Fred  was 
nowhere  in  the  procession.  He  had  started 
for  the  army  that  morning,  and  his  arrival 
was  chronicled  in  the  Savannah  papers  the  next 
week  as  "  another  patriot  in  the  field ." 

At  the  close  of  the  burial'  service,  Ally  and 
her  father  both  urged  Browning  to  go  home 
with  them  to  dinner,  but  he  would  not  be 
persuaded.  Solitude  and  a  ruined  home  were 
more  congenial  to  his  feelings  than  the  society 
of  faithless  friends  or  false  kindred.  Since 
the  avowal  of  his  union  sentiments,  he  had  been 


THE  BROWNINGS.  85 

painfully  aware  that,  with  one  exception,  he  had 
not  a  single  friend  at  the  Grove,  where  he  had 
once  been  as  a  son  of  the  house.  His  aunt 
and  two  youngest  cousins  were  rabid  secession- 
ists, and  during  the  last  months  of  his  wife's 
life  had  treated  her  with  a  coldness  as  marked 
as  their  former  intimacy.  Only  Ally  had  clung 
to  her  to  the  last,  like  a  good,  loving  sister,  and 
been  true  to  her  memory. 

The  cottage  looked  desolate  enough  as 
Browning  approached  it.  He  had  grown  a 
little  accustomed  to  the  loss  of  his  wife's  tender 
greeting,  but  Lulu's  joyous  welcome  and  sweet 
kisses  had  never  been  wanting  before.  He 
almost  expected  to  see  her  now,  with  her  light 
footsteps  and  sunny  curls,  running  from  the 
piazza  to  meet  him.  It  was  the  first  time  within 
his  recollection  he  had  ever  alighted  to  open 
his  own  gate.  Usually  half-a-dozen  sable  chil- 
dren had  rushed  from  the  cabins  at  his  approach, 
equally  happy  to  catch  a  word  or  a  penny 
from  the  indulgent  master.  "Would  they  be 
better  off  now, "  he  asked  himself,  "  in  their 


86  THE  BROWNINGS. 

new  condition  of  freedom  ?  "  He  hoped  so,  but 
feared  otherwise.  It  was  an  experiment — a 
dangerous  one,  he  thought,  too — for  the  African. 

A  well  known  bark  interrupted  his  reverie, 
and  Zack  bounded  forth  to  meet  him  with  such 
expressions  of  joy  as  brought  tears  to  his  eyes. 
He  tied  Billy  in  the  stable,  then  walked  to  the 
house,  caressing  the  dog  as  he  went. 

Lulu's  little  basket  was  on  the  piazza,  with 
something  within  wrapped  carefully.  He  un- 
folded the  napkin,  and  found  a  nicely  broiled 
bird,  a  piece  of  corn-cake,  and  a  sheepshead,  to 
which  was  attached  a  yellow  leaf,  pencilled  in 
Teenah's  rude  letters,  "  Lulu  sends  papa  a  fish 
she  hooked  in  de  creek." 

Browning  had  scarcely  tasted  food  since 
Christmas  morning.  He  had  refrained,  not  from 
the  want  of  it,  but  from  a  sense  of  loathing. 
The  bird  and  fish,  and,  more  than  all,  Lulu's 
sweet  little  message,  now  acted  as  appetizers. 
He  placed  them  on  the  uncleared  Christmas 
table,  brought  a  bottle  of  claret  from  the  vault, 
and  sat  down  to  his  solitary  meal. 


THE  BROWNINGS.  87 

For  the  first  time  he  noticed  Aunt  Chrissy's 
rude  attempts  at  decoration.  Branches  of  cedar, 
pine,  and  holly  were  green  in"  the  windows,  and 
great  boughs  of  pomegranate,  with  their  droop- 
ing scarlet  bells,  hung  from  the  ceiling.  There 
were  two  or  three  vases  of  flowers  on  the  table, 
but,  although  withered,  it  was  evident  that  the 
inartistic  hand  of  the  faithful  Chrissy  had  no 
part  either  in  their  selection  or  arrangement. 
Only  the  child  Teenah  had  thus  caught  her 
mistress's  art  of  blending  hues.  Those  half- 
withered  flowers  bore  his  thoughts  away  to  his 
lost  love.  It  was  almost  a  pleasure  to  him  now 
to  think  that  her  feet  were  straying  amid  the 
flowers  that  grow  in  the  fields  of  immor- 
tality. 

Only  the  Christmas  before,  he  remembered 
she  told  him,  "  To  be  with  Christ  would  be  bet- 
ter even  than  the  celebration  of  His  blessed 
advent."  He  did  not  understand  her  then,  but 
thought  some  cloud  was  resting  on  her  mind. 
Now  he  knew  it  was  not  a  cloud,  but  the  sun- 
shine of  glory ;  a  foretaste  of  the  fulness  of 


OS  THE  BROWNINGS. 

joy  and  rest  which  remain  for  the  saints  of  the 
Lord. 

"Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord. 

"  They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst 
any  more ;  neither  shall  the  sun  light  on  them, 
nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne  shall  feed  them,  and  shall 
lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  water ;  and 
God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their 
eyes. 

"There  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither 
sorrow  nor  crying ;  neither  shall  there  be  any 
more  pain,  for  the  former  things  are  passed 
away." 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THAT  evening  little  Lulu's  basket  was  filled 
with  oranges  and  cakes,  and  old  Zack  sent 
forth  again  on  his  now  well  known  way.  His 
master  would  gladly  have  retained  the  faithful 
creature,  but  he  had  no  other  messenger,  and 
Lulu's  comfort  and  happiness  were  more  to 
him  than  any  other  consideration.  But  for 
her  his  own  life  would  have  been  to  him  of 
little  value,  bereft  as  it  was  of  everything  that 
makes  life  desirable.  No  star  of  hope  gleamed 
for  him  in  the  misty  future.  He  could  discern 
no  light  of  peace  for  his  rent  and  distracted 
country.  "  Greek  had  met  Greek  "  in  terrible 
conflict,  and  rivers  of  kindred  blood  must 
flow.  War  appeared  to  him  a  relic  of  barba- 
rism. He  would  not  fight  willingly,  and,  if 
12 


90  THE  BROWNINGS. 

forced  to  do  so,  never  on  the  side  which  he 
regarded  as  wrong. 

That  night  passed  quietly.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  armed  himself,  and  went  out  as  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  do  since  the  warning  was 
given  him  that  his  services  were  required  in 
the  Confederate  army.  A  press-gang  had 
already  taken  one  man  from  the  county  as 
adverse  to  the  rebel  cause  as  himself.  He 
would  elude  it  if  possible ;  if  not,  his  purpose 
was  fixed  to  resist  unto  death. 

All  that  day  he  passed  in  the  forest,  shoot- 
ing nothing,  though  game  was  abundant.  At 
nightfall  he  found  a  shelter,  where  he  re- 
mained until  nearly  midnight,  then  sought  his 
desolated  home  again. 

Softly  as  his  footsteps  fell  on  the  sandy 
paths,  they  aroused  a  watchful  listener,  and 
before  he  reached  the  cottage  door  Tim  was 
standing  on  the  piazza,  to  meet  him.  The 
unexpectedness  of  this  meeting  startled  him 
for  a  moment,  and  he  cocked  his  pistol. 

"  Don't  shoot,  Mar's  Alfred !      Nobody   yer 


THE  BROWNINGS.  91 

but  Tim.  De  coast  am  clar  for  de  rest  of  de 
night  sure.  You  'scaped  'urn." 

"  Escaped  whom,  Tim?" 

"De  'criiitin'  sargent  and  his  no-account 
trash.  I  'spected  dey  might  be  round  some- 
whars,  and  got  anodder  permit  to  go  and  see 
Rosa." 

"  Have  they  been  here  to-night  ?  " 

"Just  gone,  Mar's  Alfred." 

"  Where  were  you,  Tim?  " 

"  Hid  under  de  peazzar  steps.  I  come  yer 
before  dark,  and  didn't  like  to  go  way  without 
seem'  you.  Was  feared  you  might  hab 
trouble  agin  and  need  one  ob  Tim's  big  club. 
Wouldn't  mind  shakin'  daylight  out  ob  dat 
sort  ob  white  trash  no  more'n  Zack  minds 
shakin'  'possum.  Hearn  ebery  word  dey 
said,  Mar's  Alfred!  Dey's  powerful  full  ob 
patrotism,  and  want  you  mighty  bad  to  help 
drive  dem  dar  abolishoners  way  from  de  coast." 

"  Who  were  they  ?  " 

"Didn't  know  'em,  sir.  Ony  two,  tree 
Mar's  Fred's  grillas  wid  'em.  Dey  talk  like 


92  THE  BROWNINGS. 

dey's  great  men  somewhar.  One  ob  de  grillas 
said  dey  might  as  well  finish  up  de  job  de 
boys  begin  Christmas  night;  but  de  yaller- 
striped  man  said,  '  'Twould  neber  do  to  'stroy 
de  trap  afore  dey  cotch  de  rat.  Dey  be  sartin' 
to  find  him  in't  some  time,  and  cotch  him  too, 
and  make  a  cap'en  on  him.'  Dey  gwine  to 
set  a  watch  for  you  to-morrow,  Mar's  Alfred, 
and  ebery  day." 

Browning  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes, 
then  said,  "I  wish  to  make  Cousin  Ally  a 
present  of  Daisy,  Tim.  It  was  her  father's 
first  gift  to  Miss  Ellen,  and  I  know  she  will 
like  the  gentle  creature  for  her  sake.  Her  sad- 
dle, bridle,  and  whip  are  in  the  stable  loft." 
"  Yis,  sir !  I  lead,  her  home  wid  me." 
"  And,  Tim,  there  is  one  thing  more.  If 
you  get  time,  or  happen  to  be  going  that  way, 
just  tell  Aunt  Chrissy  not  to  get  uneasy  about 
me,  but  to  wait  patiently  until  she  sees  or  hears 
something  further.  My  business  in  Florida 
may  detain  me  some  little  time.  You  may 
tell  her  to  hope  for  good  news." 


THE  BROWNINGS.  93 

Browning  then  threw  himself  upon  his  bed, 
and  was  soon,  sleeping  soundly  and  peacefully. 
At  early  dawn  he  was  awakened  by  the  faith- 
ful Tim. 

"  Mar's  Alfred,  'tis  time  you  is  up  and  gwine. 
I've  done  saddled  Daisy,  and  Billy  too.  Dar's 
hot  coffee  in  de  kitchen  !  I  make  it  strong  to 
keep  me  wake." 

"I  thought  you  went  home  hours  ago, 
Tim!" 

"  Didn't  go  home,  sir !  Couldn't  leave  you, 
Mar's  Alfred.  'Fraid  you  sleep  too  long,  and 
git  cotched.  Promised  Miss  Ally  to  keep 
good  look  for  you." 

"  Go  bring  me  the  largest  saddle-bags !  I 
may  need  some  changes  of  clothing." 

Before  it  was  fairly  light,  the  doors  of  Rose 
Cottage  were  locked  fast,  the  stables  empty, 
and  the  master  on  his  way  to  the  nearest  ford. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  Billy  had  swum  the 
boundary  river,  and  he  plunged  in  without  a 
fear,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  shaking  the 
water  from  his  flanks  on  the  Florida  shore. 


94  THE  BR  0  WNINGS. 

"Farewell  for  the  present  to  Georgia  mis- 
rule !  "  exclaimed  browning.  "  I  am  an  alien 
until  better  times.  Whenever  the  hour  comes 
that  I  can  strike  boldly  for  my  native  State, 
if  God  spares  my  life,  I  will  stand  amid  her 
loyal  sons.  But  the  rod  of  the  usurper  must 
first  be  broken." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHILE  the  fugitive  was  riding  leisurely 
towards  Jacksonville,  little  Lulu  and  Teenah 
were  trying  their  best  to  catch  him  some  fine 
fish.  Uncle  Dick  had  taken  plenty  of  mullet 
in  his  net  the  day  before,  but  the  children 
believed  what  Browning  had  written  in  the 
little  note  which  he  put  in  Zack's  basket — 
that  the  fish  relished  much  better  because  Lulu 
caught  it. 

After  angling  some  time  unsuccessfully, 
they '  went  to  another  place  where  the  water 
was  stiller  and  deeper.  Teenah  held  the  line 
very  steadily,  and  presently  a  large  perch  began 
to  nibble  at  the  fiddler  upon  the  hook.  The 
fiddler  is  a  very  minute  species  of  crab,  found 
in  great  abundance  on  the  Southern  sea-coast, 
as  well  as  on  the  margins  of  creeks  and  rivers 


96  THE  BROWNINGS. 

where  the  tide  water  sets  back.  There  is  no 
bait  of  which  perch  and  sheepshead  are  so  fond. 
The  mullet  is'  not  caught  with  a  hook,  as  it 
never  bites.  It  is  a  species  of  sucker,  and  has 
to  be  drawn  in  a  seine  or  net. 

,"Look!  look!  "  exclaimed  Lulu,  in  a  whis- 
per. "  One,  two,  three  fat  sheepshead  coming 
to  drive  away  the  perch.  They  all  want  fid- 
dler for  breakfast." 

Teenah  began  to  draw  in  the  line. 

"Dat  perch  is  fairly  hooked,  Lulu!  Soft, 
now !  pull  steadily.  'Tis  a  beauty." 

In  a  few  minutes  more,  one  of  the  sheepshead 
was  lying  with  the  perch  in  their  basket,  and 
they  were  delighted.  Lulu  said  those  were  a 
plenty  for  one  morning,  and  Zack  should  carry 
them  to  papa  as  soon  as  Aunt  Chrissy  could 
Sress  and  broil  them. 

So  the  children  ran  joyfully  back  to  the 
cabin,  and  Aunt  Chrissy  baked  a  fresh  corn- 
cake  in  the  ashes  and  broiled  the  fish.  Then 
Zack  was  started  off,  with  many  loving  mes- 
sages from  Lulu  to  darling  papa. 


THE  BROWNINGS.  97 

It  takes  but  little  to  make  or  mar  the  happi- 
ness of  childhood,  and  all  that  day  Lulu  went 
around  as  happy  as  any  bird,  thinking  of  her 
father's  pleasure  at  sight  of  old  Zack  and  the 
basket. 

When  night  came,  and  Teenah  had  heard 
her  little  prayer,  and  drawn  the  white  mosquito 
net  around  her  bed,  she  said:  "Good  night, 
Teenah !  Zacky  will  be  back  in  the  morning. 
Wake  me  early." 

The  dog  did  not  come.  When  Lulu  awoke, 
her  first  inquiry  was  for  him.  Aunt  Chrissy 
said: 

"  Don't  fret,  chile,  about  it.  De  ole  dog  will 
be  sure  to  come  some  time  wid  plenty  of 
oranges  for  Honey." 

Lulu  could  not  be  persuaded  to  go  into  the 
pine  woods  for  flowers  that  morning,  nor  down 
to  the  creek  to  fish,  for  fear  she  would  miss 
Zack ;  and  when  she  had  eaten  her  dinner,  and 
taken  her  customary  nap,  and  he  did  not  come, 
she  was  ready  to  cry  for  disappointment. 

Teenah  said  they  would  go  and  meet  him. 
13 


98  THE  BROWNINGS. 

So  all  the  afternoon  they  lingered  in  the 
paths  they  knew  he  would  take ;  but  when  the 
sun  went  down  they  had  to  go  back  to  the 
cabin  without  him. 

Uncle  Dick  felt  very  sorry  for  Lulu.  He 
took  her  upon  his  knee,  wiped  away  her  tears, 
and  said,  "he  'spected  Mar's  Alfred  wanted 
Zack  hisself  to  go  huntin'  wid  him,  and  keep 
off  de  wicked  bars  and  tiger-cats."  Then  when 
she  was  soothed  he  sang  over  and  over, 
"  Boun'  fur  de  kingdom,  will  you  go  to  glory 
wid  me  ?  "  until  she  fell  asleep  and  forgot  her 
grief. 

Two  days  more  passed,  and  Zack  had  not 
been  seen  at  the  cabin.  Aunt  Chrissy  shook 
her  head  ominously  when  she  thought  no  one 
saw  her,  and  scolded  Uncle  Dick  every  time 
lie  ventured  to  hint  at  anything  being  wrong. 
Lulu  never  spoke  another  word  about  the  dog, 
but  asked  a  great  many  questions  about  bears 
and  tiger-cats,  and  whether  they  lived  in  the 
swamps. 

The  third  night,  after  she  was  asleep,  foot- 


THE  BEOWNINGS.  99 

steps  were  heard  approaching  the  cabin. 
Uncle  Dick  ventured  out  cautiously,  and  was 
delighted  to  find  Tim,  who  had  not  been  able 
to  fulfil  his  promise  sooner.  He  had  a  bag  of 
sweet  potatoes  on  his  back,  and  a  small  sack 
of  hominy  in  his  arms,  and  came  puffing  and 
panting  under  the  double  burden. 

"  Come  in  yer  wid  ye !  "  said  Aunt  Chrissy, 
overjoyed  at  sight  of  a  human  being  in  their 
solitude.  "  De  poor  chile  is  sleepin'  thar  like 
a  lamb.  How  is  all  ?  " 

"De  cottage  am  standing,  Chrissy,  but  de 
rest  am  mostly  burned  clean  and  clar." 

"  How  is  young  Massar  ?  " 

"  Mar's  Alfred  done  gone  away  to  'scape  de 
press-gangers.  Don't  'stress  yourself  so  'bout  it. 
He  tole  me  fur  to  tell  you  dar'd  be  good  news 
fur  you  'fore  long.  Keep  quiet  and  pray  de 
Lord." 

Tim  then  recounted,  in  his  own  quaint 
fashion,  all  that  had  occurred  since  the  night 
they  left  the  plantation,  not  forgetting  his  part 
in  the  deadly  conflict  with  the  guerillas. 


100  THE  BROWNINGS. 

It  was  a  picture  worthy  of  a  painter,  that 
rude  cabin  away  in  the  lonely  forest,  with  the 
dark  group  within,  clustered  together  in  one 
corner,  as  seen  by  the  dim  light  of  a  pine-knot 
torch  which  old  Dick  held  in  his  trembling 
hand.  The  little  bed,  with  its  white  curtain 
festooned  every  day  with  fresh  flowers,  was 
altogether  in  shadow.  Teenah  had  forsaken 
her  blanket  at  Lulu's  feet  and  joined  the  group. 
Tim  sat  there  hour  after  hour  answering  all 
the  questions  of  the  old  people,  and  promising 
to  keep  them  informed  of  every  event  of  in- 
terest in  the  future. 

Teenah  asked  but  one  question,  whether  her 
master  took  Zack  with  him  ?  When  informed 
he  did  not,  she  said,  "  If  the  guerillas  had 
killed  him,  it  would  almost  break  Lulu's 
heart." 

Tim  said  he  would  go  back  by  way  of  the 
cottage  and  see  if  he  could  find  him;  but  there 
was  no  necessity  for  his  doing  so.  While  they 
were  speaking  they  heard  a  scratch  at  the  door 
of  the  cabin,  followed  by  a  low  howl.  Dick 


THE  BR  0  WRINGS.  101 

said  it  was  a  black  wolf;  but  Teenah's  ears 
were  not  deceived. 

'"Tis  ole  Zack  hisself!"  she  said  joyfully. 
"  Open  quick  ;  he  may  be  hurt !  " 

Uncle  Dick  was  still  afraid,  but  Tim  opened 
the  door,  and  the  dog  entered  silently  with  his 
.basket  in  his  mouth.  He  made  no  demon- 
strations of  joy  when  Teenah  threw  her  arms 
around  him  and  caressed  him,  but  put  down 
his  basket,  and  stretched  himself  out  as  if 
quite  exhausted. 

"  Poor  ole  fellow !  He  is  starved,"  Aunt 
Chrissy  said,  and  went  for  a  piece  of  corn- 
cake. 

He  would  not  eat,  but  licked  Teenah's  hands 
and  cried  mournfully.  They  thought  he  was 
hurt,  but  on  examination  found  neither  wound 
nor  bruise. 

"  Let  me  look  in  his  basket,"  said  Teenah, 
holding  it  up  to  the  light  of  the  pine-knot. 
"  Everything  is  just  as  we  sent  it.  Nothing 
is  de  matter  ob  him,  ony  he  wants  to  tell  us  he 
couldn't  find  his  master." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

TEENAH  was  right.  Three  whole  days  Zack. 
lingered  around  the  premises,  sometimes  lying 
at  his  old  watch-post  on  the  piazza,  sometimes 
going  to  the  empty  stables  or  barking  at  the 
kitchen  door ;  but  he  could  nowhere  find  the 
object  of  his  search,  no  one  to  caress  him  as 
usual,  or  give  him  food.  When  quite  exhaust- 
ed with  fasting,  he  took  up  his  basket  again, 
and  returned  to  the  cabin.  It  was  very  fortu- 
nate that  Tim  was  there  before  him,  otherwise 
his  coming  would  have  occasioned  serious 
alarm  for  the  safety  of  the  beloved  master. 

When  the  dog  had  rested  awhile,  Teenah 
offered  him  food  again.  He  ate  but  little, 
then  went  and  lay  down  before  Lulu's  bed, 
where  she  discovered  him  in  the  morning  as 
soon  as  she  awoke.  But  Zack  was  not  happy. 


THE  BROWNINGS.  103 

He  would  only  follow  the  children  silently 
when  they  called  him,  liking  better  to  lie  in 
the  shadow  of  the  cabin.  Teenah  told  Lulu, 
if  they  could  only  make  him  understand  her 
father  was  safe,  he  would  be  as  lively  as  ever. 

Many  long  days  passed  with  no  change  and 
little  interest,  except  an  occasional  night  visit 
from  Tim,  who  brought  the  old  folks  tobacco 
and  meal,  and  told  them  all  the  news  he  could 
learn.  Four  of  Col.  Mclntosh's  negroes 
had  run  away  to  the  coast,  and  two  of  old 
Gibb's.  The  Union  folks  had  whipped  the 
Georgia  and  Florida  boys  at  Fernandina,  and 
were  blockading  the  St.  John's  below  Jackson- 
ville; all  of  which  was  very  good  news  to 
them,  since  the  Unionists  were  believed  to  be 
the  particular  friends  of  the  darkeys. 

"  Ef  we  could  ony  hear  from  young  massar 
and  de  chilluns,  'twould  be  de  greatest  com- 
fort," Aunt  Chrissy  said,  as  they  sat  smoking 
together  in  the  doorway  one  warm  evening. 
"  Dar  must  be  bad  work  on  de  coast,  whar  we 
hear  de  big  guns  so  much ! " 


104  THE  BROWNINGS. 

But  weeks  passed  with  no  news  either  from 
the  master  or  his  old  servants.  Lulu  cried 
herself  to  sleep  every  night,  and  Teena,h  had 
hard  work  to  keep  her  cheerful  through  the  day. 
Uncle  Dick  became  more  and  more  querulous, 
and  while  his  wife  scolded  him  as  often  as 
ever,  her  own  faith  in  the  future  began  to  grow 
dim.  Teenah  was  the  only  one  habitually 
cheerful;  and  she  sang  hymns,  imitated  the 
birds,  played  with  old  Zack,  or  braided  wreaths 
for  Lulu  from  morning  until  night.  Their 
books  had  all  been  left  behind,  except  one  lit- 
tle Testament  her  mistress  had  given  her  and 
taught  her  to  read.  She  tried  to  teach  Lulu 
from  this,  but  the  child  wanted  her  own  pretty 
books  with  bright  pictures,  and  would  riot 
spell  the  words  in  the  hard  Testament.  She 
wanted  her  doll,  too,  and  her  games  and  puz- 
zles, and  begged  Uncle  Dick  every  day  to  carry 
her  back  to  her  good  home.  It  was  getting 
harder  and  harder  to  please  the  delicate  child. 

One  warm  day  in  early  spring,  when  the 
bay-flowers  were  budding  in  the  thickets,  and 


THE  BROWNINGS.  105 

the  children  had  gone  in  quest  of  them,  old 
Zack,  who  had  never  been  quite  himself  since 
his  last  visit  to  the  cottage,  came  bounding 
into  the  cabin,  where  Aunt  Chrissy  sat  smoking 
alone.  He  barked  in  his  old  way,  put  his 
paws  upon  her  shoulders,  then  ran  out  of  the 
door  as  if  to  meet  some  one.  Thinking  it  was 
the  children,  she  did  not  move  or  take  her 
pipe  from  her  mouth  until  she  saw  a  tall 
figure  standing  in  the  open  doorway.  Had  a 
ghost  appeared  to  her  she  could  not  have 
stared  more  wildly ;  and  not  until  the  appari- 
tion spoke  to  her,  and  called  her  "  Mother"  did 
she  open  her  mouth. 

"  "Pis  my  own  chile !  "  she  said  then,  rising 
and'clasping  him  in  her  arms ;  "  my  baby  boy 
dat  I  sent  forth  to  freedom.  He  has  come  to 
look  at  ole  daddy  and  mammy  once  more." 

"  Come  fur  to  take  you  'way  wid  him,"  he 
replied ;  "  de  chilluns  all  dyin'  to  see  thar 
mother." 

Aunt  Chrissy  shook  her  head,  and  said  so- 
lemnly :  "  My  own  flesh  and  blood  mus'n't 
14 


106  THE  BROWNINGS. 

tempt  me  to  do  wrong.      I  have  de  precious 
charge  to  keep  for  poor  young  massar !  " 

"  Mar's  Alfred  sent  me,  and  give  me  dis  yer 
far  Teenah,"  taking  a  little  note  from  the  toe 

of  his  brogan. 

^ 

"  Bress  de  Lord,  and  blow  de  conch  for 
Uncle  Dick  !  "  Aunt  Chrissy  exclaimed,  quite 
beside  herself  with  joy  when  she  saw  the  note. 
"  Poor  ole  man !  how  he  has  mourned  for  de 
chilluns,  and  broke  his  heart  for  de  chilluns' 
chillun.  Tell  him  softly,  Bona,  or  he'll  go 
give  way." 

At  the  sound  of  the  shell,  Teenah  and  Lulu, 
as  well  as  old  Dick,  hurried  home  to  the  cabin. 
They  all  understood  it  to  be  a  return  call,  it 
having  been  agreed,  if  anything  happened,  to 
sound  the  conch.  Great  was  their  surprise  to 
meet  Bona,  and  greater  their  joy  when  they 
learned  his  errand. 

Teenah  was  the  only  one  who  could  read 
writing,  and  it  took  her  a  long  while  to  spell 
out  all  the  words  of  the  note,  while  Lulu  sat 
down  by  her  side,  trying  hard  to  be  patient. 


THE  BROWNINGS.  107 

The  two  old  folks  were  weeping  together  over 
Bona,  whom  they  never  expected  to  meet 
again. 

"  We  must  start  to-night,"  Teenah  said  at 
last.  "  We  must  take  de  warm  blankets  and 
shawls,  and  something  to  eat  on  de  journey, 
dat's  all  we  must  take.  We  must  travel  in  de 
night,  and  stop  in  de  daytime  to  rest.  Three 
nights  will  bring  us  into  de  Union  lines.  We 
must  all  take  de  very  best  care  of  Lulu  until 
she  gets  to  Mar's  Alfred.  Dat's  all  he  said." 

Bona  said,  while  they  were  making  ready, 
he  must  have  one  more  look  at  the  old  home, 
and  Uncle  Dick  whispered  to  him  softly,  so 
Aunt  Chrissy  might  not  hear,  "  Ef  he  could 
find  it  dar,  to  bring  de  ole  fiddle  wid  him ;  he 
missed  it  so  much,  and  de  chilluns  would  want 
to  hear  de  ole  tunes  he  used  to  play  dem.  He 
left  it  on  de  kitchen  shelf,  ef  de  grillas  hadn't 
found  it." 

There  was  not  much  to  do  except  to  bake 
what  corn-meal  they  had  into  cakes  for  the 
journey.  The  few  potatoes  left  of  Tim's  sup- 


108  THE.BROWNINGS. 

ply  they  would  roast  by  the  way  as  they 
needed  them.  They  had  no  coffee,  and  only  a 
handful  of  parched  rice,  which  had  been  their 
substitute. 

The  little  bed  was  left  in  the  corner,  robbed 
of  its  blankets  and  curtains.  They  could  not 
carry  it  so  far.  Beneath  the  bed,  Teenah  lifted 
a  loose  board,  and  took  out  the  little  trunk  her 
master  had  intrusted  to  her  care,  and  then  they 
were  ready  to  go. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THEY  left  the  old  cabin  in  the  first  dusk  of 
evening.  Bona  had  a  boat  waiting  for  them 
at  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  and  they  floated 
down  the  river  until  towards  morning,  when 
they  landed  on  the  Florida  side.  They  re- 
mained concealed  in  the  woods  during  the  day, 
and  at  night  set  forward  again  on  foot,  keeping 
their  way  by  the  light  of  the  stars,  through  the 
heavy  pine  forests,  unmindful  of  fatigue  or 
danger.  The  third  morning  found  them  on  a 
low,  sandy  point  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  John's. 
Bona  said,  if  no  boat  was  waiting  for  them  there, 
they  were  to  signal  the  first  vessel  that  came 
down  the  river. 

Uncle  Dick  was  afraid  that  by  so  doing  they 
would  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  rebels ;  but 
Bona  assured  him  no  secesher  dared  be  seen  on 


110  THE  BROWNINGS. 

the  river  since  the  big  fleet  had  gone  up.  All 
the  vessels  that  went  up  or  came  down  were 
Union. 

After  resting  awhile,  they  built  a  fire  on  the 
sand  and  cooked  breakfast,  for  they  were  very 
hungry  after  the  long  night-walk.  They  had 
only  one  corn-cake  left  in  their  basket,  and  half- 
a-dozen  sweet  potatoes ;  but  Bona  went  in  search 
of  crabs  and  came  back  soon  with  plenty. 
These  were  put  into  the  fire  with  the  potatoes, 
and  when  roasted  made  an  excellent  meal. 

Annt  Chrissy  steeped  the  last  grains  of  her 
parched  rice,  and  said  "  thar  store  held  out  all 
de  way  LIKE  DE  WIDOW  CRUZA'S  OIL  !  We 
shall  cross  dis  Jurdin  to-day,  and  to-morrow 
be  in  de  promised  land." 

Simple  believers !  To  the  wandering  Israel- 
ite, Canaan  was  not  more  cloudless  than  that 
untried  land  of  freedom  to  Uncle  Dick  and 
Aunt  Chrissy.  where  Mar's  Alfred  and  "  de  chil- 
luns"  awaited  them.  Snatches  of  triumphant 
hymns  burst  from  their  lips,  the  sound  of  which 
made  little  Lulu's  heart  leap  for  joy.  They 


THE  BRO  WNINGS.  Ill 

were  all  children  together  as  they  sat  there  on 
the  sandy  beach  that  morning,  and  Teenah's 
was  the  only  thoughtful-looking  face  among 
them.  She  had  no  father  to  go  to  like  Lulu, 
no  kindred  !  She  was  free,  but  had  no  home. 
Lulu's  home  would  be  hers  for  a  time  until  she 
no  longer  needed  her  tender  care;  and  what 
then  ?  Had  the  world  a  welcome  for  such  as 
she  ?  She  was  afraid  of  the  great  world,  where 
she  must  walk  defenceless  and  helpless,  and 
sometimes  felt,  when  her  thoughts  peered  into 
the  misty  future,  as  though  she  would  like  to 
creep  back  to  the  grave  of  her  beloved  mistress, 
and  die. 

It  was  only  when  the  others  were  so  full  of 
joy  and  hope  that  such  thoughts  possessed 
Teenah's  mind.  When  the  cabin  was  dark, 
and  Uncle  Dick  and  Aunt  Chrissy  most  de- 
spondent, when  Lulu  wailed  all  day  for  her 
papa  and  the  pretty  home,  then  her  songs  were 
loudest,  for  she  was  making  music  for  others. 
Now  they  were  all  too  happy  to  heed  whether 
she  were  sad  or  joyful. 


112  THE  BROWNINGS. 

Teenah  had  a  more  reflective  mind  than  most 
children,  especially  those  of  her  own  class. 
Whether  she  had  any  memories  earlier  than 
her  memories  of  Rose  Cottage  is  uncertain. 
Sometimes  she  used  to  tell  Aunt  Chrissy 
she  saw  a  country  in  her  sleep,  warmer  and 
brighter  than  theirs,  where  the  people  were  all 
black,  and  wore  much  gold.  Some  one  waved 
palm-leaves  over  her  there,  just  as  she  waved 
a  fan  over  Lulu  when  she  put  her  to  sleep. 

Aunt  Chrissy  told  her  it  was  a  dream.  It 
may  be  her  lonely  childhood  favored  such 
dreams,  and  that  her  natural  disposition  in- 
clined her  to  solitude,  otherwise  she  would 
more  frequently  have  been  found  joining  the 
wild  sports  of  the  plantation  children.  The 
many  hours  she  spent  with  her  mistress  cer- 
tainly increased  the  reflective  tendency  of  her 
mind,  and  the  little  knowledge  which  was  im- 
parted to  her  awakened  the  wildest  thirst  for 
more.  She  had  done  all  she  could  to  instruct 
Lulu,  and  she  often  queried  whether,  now  she 
was  free,  she  might  not  be  allowed  to  learn  les- 


TEE  BROWNINGS.  113 

sons  with  her  when  she  came  to  have  books 
and  teachers.  She  knew  well  no  slave-child 
could  be  thus  privileged.  Teenah  had  no  sus- 
picion that  her  mistress  had  provided  for  her 
education  if  she  remained  with  Lulu.  Had 
she  known  it  her  tender  care  of  the  child  could 
not  have  been  increased. 

Breakfast  had  not  long  been  eaten  when  a 
little  cloud  of  smoke  was  observed  rising  above 
the  river.  Teenah  was  the  first  to  notice  it  and 
point  it  out  to  the  others.  They  all  said  it  was 
a  steamboat  and  must  be  coming  down  the 
river,  as  no  vessel  had  gone  up  since  their  ar- 
rival at  the  point,  nearly  two  hours  before.  It 
was  a  long  time  getting  in  sight,  and  sometimes, 
when  the  smoke  disappeared  for  a  moment, 
they  were  ready  to  believe  they  had  been  mis- 
taken, and  that  no  boat  was  approaching. 
Then  the  light  vapory  cloud  would  be  seen 
again  nearer  than  before. 

After  awhile  the  heavy  strokes  of  the  en- 
gine were  heard,  and  the  puffing  of  steam; 

and  soon  a  large  three-masted  vessel  rounded  a 
15 


114  THE  BROWNINGS. 

point  not  far  distant.  It  was  unlike  any  boat 
ever  seen  on  the  St.  Mary's.  Bona  told  them 
it  was  a  war- vessel  and  carried  great  cannon. 

A  white  flag  was  fastened  to  Uncle  Dick's 
staff,  and  Bona  held  it  up  and  shouted  when 
the  gunboat  drew  nearer.  Lulu  was  much 
excited,  holding  fast  to  Teenah  with  one  hand 
while  the  other  waved  her  little  handkerchief, 
as  Aunt  Chrissy  directed. 

"  They  mightn't  be  willin'  to  stop  for  no-ac- 
count pussons  like  we  are !  "  she  said,  "  but  no 
one  would  be  hard-hearted  enough  to  leave  a 
tender  young  chile  like  her." 

The  vessel  gave  signs  of  halting,  and  pretty 
soon  a  boat  was  let  down  by  ropes,  and  half-a- 
dozen  stout  men  jumped  in  and  pulled  for  the 
shore.  It  was  no  unusual  thing  for  the  gun- 
boats, in  their  passage  up  and  down  the  river, 
to  be  hailed  by  fugitives,  and  their  signals 
were  seldom  unheeded. 

It  was  not  many  minutes  before  the  whole 
party  had  reached  the  vessel,  and  were  waiting 
to  climb  up  the  steep  sides.  When  the  Cap- 


THE  BROWNINGS.  115 

tain  saw  Lulu,  he  came  down  the  ladder  into 
the  boat,  took  her  in  his  own  arms  very  ten- 
derly, and  returned  to  the  vessel  with  her.  Old 
Zack  sprang  after  her  at  one  leap,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  the  sailors,  who  were  looking  on. 

"  Please  help  Teenah,  now !"  Lulu  said 
naivety,  addressing  the  Captain.  "  Teenah  is 
my  nurse,  and  could  never  get  up  those  bad 
steps  like  Zacky." 

Teenah  was  soon  up  the  ladder  at  her  side ; 
then  the  Captain  took  them  down  into  his 
cabin,  brought  cologne  to  bathe  Lulu's  sun- 
burnt cheeks,  and  rang  for  the  steward  to  bring 
them  something  nice  to  eat.  The  child's  black 
dress  and  artless  story  touched  his  feelings,  and 
he  promised  to  help  her  find  her  papa  when 
his  vessel  reached  Fernandina. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

FERNANDINA  is  built  on  a  low,  sandy  island 
on  the  extreme  north-eastern  coast  of  Florida. 
It  was  named  from  a  wealthy  Spanish  resident, 
Fernandez.  The  city  is  built  on  the  eastern 
or  ocean  side  of  the  island  of  Amelia,  and  was 
of  little  importance  before  the  construction  of 
the  peninsula  railroad,  which  connects  the  At- 
lantic with  the  Gulf-shore.  Since  that  event  it 
has  grown  rapidly,  and  was,  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  rebellion,  the  principal  entrepot  for  the 
cotton,  rice,  and  sugar  of  Eastern  and  Middle 
Florida.  After  its  occupation  by  the  Union 
forces,  it  became  a  point  of  some  military  im- 
portance to  the  North. 

The  principal  wharf  of  the  town  was 
thronged'  with  men  on  the  arrival  of  the 
steamer  from  the  St.  John's ;  soldiers,  sailors,  . 


THE  BROWNINGS.  117 

and  civilians,  Anglo-Saxon  and  African,  fra- 
ternizing in  a  common  cause,  and  moved  by 
common  curiosity.  The  Captain  had  taken  the 
children  on  deck  again,  and  placed  them  in  a 
position  where  they  could  look  over  the  ship's 
sides  and  amuse  themselves  by  observing  ob- 
jects on  shore.  Zack  posted  himself  beside 
them  like  a  trusty  sentinel,  while  Uncle  Dick 
and  Aunt  Chrissy,  nearly  dumb  wijh  astonish- 
ment, stood  leaning  over  the  gunwale  near  by. 

There  was  one  person  amid  the  crowd  on 
shore,  who  gathered  in  all  these  familiar  objects 
at  a  glance,  and  whose  heart  swelled  with  silent 
thanksgiving  at  the  sight.  It  was  little  Lulu's 
father,  waiting  and  watching  for  his  child. 
No  vessel  had  gone  up  the  river  the  day  pre- 
vious, otherwise  he  would  have  been  at  the 
place  appointed  to  meet  them.  But  Bona  was 
trusty,  and  had  followed  his  instructions  to  the 
letter;  and, when  the  vessel  touched  the  pier 
Browning's  feet  were  among  the  first  to  cross 
the  plank. 

The  joy  of  the  meeting  may  be  better  ima- 


118  THE  BROWNINGS. 

gined  than  described.  Lulu  laughed  and  cried 
in  her  father's  arms ;  the  two  old  people  wept 
like  children  at  sight  of  Mar's  Alfred,  and 
Bona  grinned  with  pride  and  complacency  at 
the  success  of  his  adventure,  while  Zack  barked 
his  joy  in  a  most  boisterous  manner.  Teenah 
alone  was  silent  and  undemonstrative.  With 
kind  words  for  others,  whenever  they  had  need 
of  them,  she  had  never  a  syllable  for  the  ex- 
pression of  her  own  joy  or  sorrow.  Her  emo- 
tions appeared  to  have  no  natural  outlet  except 
in  singing. 

After  thanking  the  Captain  for  his  kindness 
to  Lulu,  Browning  took  his  family  to  the  quar- 
ters he  had  provided  for  them  in  the  city.  A 
number  of  the  old  plantation  servants  were 
there,  clinging  to  the  master  still,  though  free ; 
others  had  gone  to  Port  Royal  and  Beaufort  in 
search  of  employment. 

A  gentleman  came  to  dine  with  them  the 
first  evening  in  their  new  home.  He  was 
dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  Union  officer,  and 
was  greeted  very  warmly  by  Browning.  His 


THE  BROWNINGS.  119 

first  inquiry  was  for  Lulu,  who  was  soon  pre- 
sented by  her  father. 

"  Do  you  know  this  gentleman,  Lulu  ?  "  lie 
asked. 

She  looked  at  him  very  earnestly,  then  at 
her  father  and  Teenah. 

"  Teenah  knows  him,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  do 
not !  I  think  he  looks  something  like  darling 
mamma." 

The  stranger  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her,  too  much  overcome  to  speak.  It  was  her 
mamma's  only  brother — her  uncle  John,  whom 
she  had  seen  but  once,  and  that  more  than 
two  years  before. 

Teenah  recognised  him  at  once,  as  her  coun- 
tenance testified.  He  recollected  her,  too,  and 
had  a  kind  word  for  his  sister's  favorite. 

Hunter  entered  the  service  with  the  first  vo- 
lunteers from  his  native  State,  and  had  been 
advanced  in  rank  from  Lieutenant  to  a  Major. 
The  accidental  meeting  of  the  brothers-in-law 
at  Fernandina  was  a  surprise  and  pleasure  to 
both.  For  nearly  a  year  they  had  heard  no- 


120  THE  BROWNINGS. 

thing  of  one  another,  all  communications  ceas- 
ing at  the  commencement  of  hostilities.  The 
tidings  of  Mrs.  Browning's  death  had  not 
reached  her  home  in  New  Hampshire,  al- 
though her  last  letter  had  prepared  them  for 
the  event. 

They  remained  in  Fernandina  two  months ; 
then  when  the  weather  grew  warmer,  too  warm 
for  health  or  comfort,  Browning  yielded  to  the 
importunity  of  his  wife's  friends  and  took  Lulu 
and  Teenah  North. 

The  children  were  delighted  with  the  rugged 
rocks,  green  fields,  and  blossoming  orchards, 
and  were  soon  content  to  remain  amid  the 
grand  old  mountains  which  they  never  were 
weary  of  gazing  upon.  They  had  seen  nothing 
like  them  in  their  own  summer  land. 

Teenah  was  more  than  contented.  You  had 
but  to  see  her  each  morning  dressing  Lulu, 
gathering  up  their  books  in  a  pretty  green 
satchel,  then  singing  on  her  way  to  school,  to 
know  she  was  happy.  She  was  truly  happy, 
for  she  was  drinking  from  the  fount  of 


THE  BROWNINGS.  121 

knowledge  for  which  she  had  long  been  thirst- 
ing. 

The  children  are  still  at  school  together,  and 
are  making  rapid  progress.  Lulu  has  not  yet 
learned  to  write  plainly ;  but  as  often  as  her 
father  receives  one  of  Teenah's  well  composed 
and  neatly  written  letters,  he  affirms,  "  She  is  a 
genius,  and  shall  be  sent  to  Oberlin  yet,  where 
she  will  be  more  fully  prepared  to  become  a 
teacher  to  her  own  emancipated  race."  Should 
this  ever  happen,  we  will  tell  our  young  read- 
ers about  it  in  another  little  story. 


16 

» 


LUCY    LEE; 

OR, 

ALL  THINGS    FOR   CHRIST. 


LUCY'S   KIDE  WITH  THE  DOCTOK. 


LUCY   LEE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

IN  a  small  cottage  farm-house,  up  among  the 
Green  Mountains  of  Vermont,  lived  Lucy  Lee. 
Though  a  little  girl,  she  was  the  oldest  of  a 
whole  group  of  brothers  and  sisters.  There 
were  Harry,  Charley,  Ruth,  and  Hetty,  who  was 
still  in  the  cradle.  Her  parents,  though  quite 
intelligent  people,  were  by  no  means  rich. 
Like  most  of  the  farmers  of  New  England  with 
growing  families,  they  were  obliged  to  get  their 
living  by  the  "sweat  of  the  brow,"  or,  in  other 
words,  by  constant,  persevering  toil. 

Almost  as  soon  as  Lucy  could  walk  she  was 


126  LUCY  LEE. 

taught  to  be  useful.  She  could  dust  chairs 
after  her  mother  had  been  sweeping,  rock  the 
cradle  while  she  made  bread  and  cakes,  and  do 
a  great  many  other  things  before  she  had  learned 
to  spell  her  own  name.  The  neighbors  thought 
her  an  uncommon  womanly  child,  and  held  her 
up  as  an  example  to  their  own  more  thought- 
less, or  less  dextrous  little  daughters.  Her 
mother  acknowledged  her  handiness,  though 
often  complaining  of  her  want  of  life  and 
vivacity.  She  said:  "  Although  Lucy  always 
performed  her  tasks  well,  and  never  did  any 
mischief,  somehow  she  wasn't  winsome,  like 
most  children.  She  wanted  to  see  her  chirper, 
and  do  things  as  if  her  mind  was  upon  them, 
and  not  off  in  the  clouds,  or  somewhere  else, 
nobody  knew  where." 

With  four  little  ones  younger  than  herself 
to  be  cared  for,  Lucy,  at  eight  years  old,  was 
scarcely  thought  of  as  a  child,  with  a  child's 
yearnings  for  tenderness  and  affection,  and 
with  a  child's  need,  too,  of  pastime  and  refresh- 
ment. She  had  never  cared  for  play,  after 


LUCY  LEE.  127 

the  common  manner  of  childhood ;  crockery- 
houses  and  rag  dolls  were  far  more  irksome  to 
her  than  the  little  living  things  she  was  called 
upon  to  watch  over  continually.  She  loved  her 
brothers  and  sisters  dearly,  yet  there  were 
times  when  their  incessant  clatter  and  cries 
seemed  more  than  she  could  bear.  They 
deafened  her  to  her  own  thoughts,  so  she  could 
not  hear  the  voice  of  the  spirit  within,  whose 
soft  whispers  were  her  solace  in  every  grief  and 
discouragement.  Sometimes  when  very  weary 
she  would  run  away  to  the  river-bank,  and 
hide  among  the  willows  until  she  felt  soothed 
and  calmed.  Then,  in  a  tone  that  sounded  liko 
the  gurgle  of  the  waters  or  the  warbling  of 
birds,  she  often  repeated  the  sweet  hymns  she 
learned  at  the  Sabbath-school,  or  thought  of 
the  wonderful  story  of  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem, 
who  was  born  in  a  manger  and  died  upon 
the  cross.  Lucy  knew  that  story  in  all  its 
painful  and  affecting  details,  and  sometimes 
told  it  to  her  little  brothers,  and  bade  them  be 
gentle  and  good  like  the  child  Jesus.  The 


128  LUCY  LEE. 

hymn  of  the  shepherds  was  the  lullaby  she 
loved  most  to  sing  while  rocking  her  little  sis- 
ter's cradle,  and  Harry  and  Charley  could  sing 
with  her : 

"  Cold  on  his  cradle  the  dew-drops  are  shining ; 
Lone  lies  his  head  with  the  beasts  of  the  stall : 
Angels  adore  him,  in  slumbers  reclining, 
Maker  and  Monarch  and  Saviour  of  all." 

Lucy's  home  was  in  a  wild  spot,  shut  in  on 
all  sides  by  hills  and  mountains.  Old  "  Ascut- 
ney  "  reared  its  bald  head  to  the  north,  the 
rugged  "  Hawk  "  lay  to  the  west,  while  peak 
after  peak,  whose  names  she  did  not  know, 
stretched  southward  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach. 

Almost  every  child  likes  to  gaze  upon 
mountains,  and  watch  the  clouds  and  mists 
playing  around  their  tops.  Even  Lucy's  two 
little  brothers  loved  to  watch  the  giant  white 
cloud-forms,  to  see  whether  they  would  rise  up 
in  the  air  or  fall  to  the  ground  again,  for  their  fa- 
ther had  told  them  to  look  for  fine  weather  when 
the  white  mist  struggled  upwards.  But  to  Lucy 


LUC7  LEE.  129 

the  mountains  were  sublime,  solemn  mysteries. 
She  never  looked  upon  them  without  a  feeling 
of  longing  and  restlessness  and  pain.  Some- 
times they  made  her  think  of  the  great  tem- 
ples she  read  about  in  the  Bible,  with  the  in- 
cense smoking  upon  their  altars,  and  thronged 
with  white-robed  ministers.  Again  they  were 
only  barriers,  shutting  out  the  narrow  valley 
in  which  she  lived  from  a  sight  of  the  great 
world.  At  such  times  she  longed  exceedingly 
to  stand  upon  their  tops  and  get  a  glimpse  be- 
yond. In  one  of  these  moods  she  asked  so 
many  questions,  and  manifested  so  much  curi- 
osity, that  her  father  promised  to  take  her  some 
day  to  the  summit  of  the  highest,  that  she 
might  see  for  herself,  and  be  satisfied. 

Lucy  had  never  been  any  further  from  the 
cottage  than  the  parish  church,  which  lay  up 
the  valley  a  little  more  than  two  miles  away, 
and  her  father's  promise  made  her  heart  as  light 
as  a  bird's.  She  thought  of  it  days,  and  dream- 
ed about  it  nights,  until,  one  fine,  clear,  au-: 

tumn  morning,  she  saw  the  grey  pony  harnessed 
17 


130  LUCY  LEE. 

to  the  old  yellow  wagon,  and  heard  her  father 
call  her  to  put  on  her  things  quickly  for  a  ride. 
She  was  ready  in  a  few  minutes,  and  climbing 
joyfully  over  the  pile  of  bags  which  Mr.  Lee 
was  going  to  drop  at  the  grist-mill  on  the  way. 
It  was  Lucy's  first  ride  for  pleasure. 

Pretty  soon  after  leaving  the  village,  the 
narrow  road  began  to  wind  upwards,  and  kept 
winding  higher  and  higher,  until  Lucy  began 
to  think  they  must  be  nearing  the  clouds. 
The  grey  pony  went  forward  steadily  and  pa- 
tiently until  they  gained  the  summit,  and  then 
his  master  dropped  the  lines,  and  bade  him 
rest. 

Lucy  was  wholly  unprepared  for  the  extent 
and  grandeur  of  the  prospect  which  burst  upon 
her ;  but  not  a  single  exclamation  fell  from 
her  lips  as  her  father  pointed  out  by  the  white 
steeples  town  after  town,  and  then  showed  her 
in  the  distance  Monadnock  and  Holyoke  apd 
Torn,  whose  tops  seemed  resting  on  the  skies. 
The  Connecticut  wound  like  a  silver  ribbon 
through  its  beautiful  green  valley,  until  away 


LUCY  LEE.  131 

to  the  south  it  looked  only  like  a  little  thread 
of  sunshine.  They  lingered  some  time  before 
the  horse's  head  was  turned  homeward,  for  Mr. 
Lee  from  his  boyhood  had  loved  the  moun- 
tain-tops, and  for  many  years  had  not  beheld 
them  in  their  autumnal  splendor  before. 

Lucy  wept  herself  to  sleep  that  night  with- 
out knowing  whether  for  joy  or  sorrow.  Her 
father  said  she  had  got  tired  and  was 'nervous; 
her  mother  that  she  had  better  have  stayed 
at  home  and  tended  the  baby,  as  her  head  was 
too  full  of  notions  before. 

Mrs.  Lee  was  a  plain  practical  woman,  and 
knew  very  little  about  the  world  of  imagi- 
nation. Her  child  might  "see  visions  and 
dream  dreams,"  but  certainly  she  did  not  in- 
herit the  inclination  from  her  mother,  whose 
organ  of  ideality  had  never  grown  to  visible 
size.  God's  mountains  were  simply  moun- 
tains to  her,  built  up  of  dark  rocks,  and  covered 
with  dwarf  cedars  and  scraggy  pines.  Why 
her  husband  should  talk  so  foolishly  about  them 
to  the  children,  she  could  not  well  understand. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Lucy  had  never  been  to  school.  There  was 
no  school  nearer  than  the  village,  and  that  was 
a  long  way  for  a  little  girl  to  walk,  especially 
without  company.  When  Harry  was  four 
years  old,  they  commenced  a  term  together ; 
but  in  less  than  a  week  the  little  fellow  gave 
out,  then  school  was  given  up  altogether.  Mr. 
Lee  taught  Lucy  some  things  himself  when  he 
had  time,  and  she  repeated  his  lessons  to  the 
younger  children.  She  was  an  apt  scholar, 
and  with  what  help  she  could  get  by  asking 
questions  made  more  rapid  proficiency  than 
some  children  with  the  best  of  instruction. 
With  time  and  books,  she  would  have  kept 
pace  with  any  child  of  her  own  age ;  but  be- 
tween the  washing  of  dishes,  dusting,  and 
tending  baby,  Lucy  had  seldom  an  hour  to 


LUCY  LEE.  133 

herself,  though  she  lived  in  a  world  of  her 
own,  into  which  no  one  had  ever  entered.  It 
was  a  world  of  thoughts  and  feelings ;  a 
strange,  perplexing  world  for  so  young  a  child. 
She  could  never  bring  her  mind  to  speak  of 
it,  not  even  when  chided  by  her  mother,  as 
she  often  was,  for  stupidity  or  absent-minded- 
ness. A  nature  like  hers,  so  keenly  alive  to 
every  breeze  that  blows  upon  it,  is  never  too 
young  to  feel  and  know  if  it  is  misunderstood 
or  misinterpreted. 

But  pleasanter  days  were  dawning  for  Lucy. 
At  another  farm-house,  about  half  a  mile  from 
theirs,  a  stranger  lady  was  about  to  open  a 
school,  and  Lucy,  Harry,  and  Charley  were 
going.  Little  Ruth  was  too  small,  and  baby 
was  not  out  of  the  standing-stool.  The  lady 
had  been  for  some  years  a  teacher  at  the  West, 
and  had  come  to  spend  a  season  with  her  sister 
among  the  mountains  of  Yermont.  Finding 
many  children  in  the  neighborhood,  her  sister's 
among  the  number,  too  young  to  walk  to  the 
village  school,  she  offered  to  instruct  them 


- 


134  LUC7  LEE. 

through  the  winter,  and  her  offer  was  hailed 
with  great  joy  by  their  parents. 

As  soon    as   Thanksgiving,  was   over,    the 

school  commenced.     About  a  dozen  little  ones, 
i 
between  the  ages  of  four  and  ten,  gathered  daily 

around  dear  Miss  Willis,  one  of  the  kindest, 
best  teachers  who  ever  undertook  to  guide 
simple  feet  in  the  paths  of  knowledge.  There 
was  no  ruggedness  nor  difficulty  which  her 
gentle  patience  did  not  soon  render  plain  and 
pleasant.  She  taught  them  a  great  many 
things  not  found  in  their  books ;  told  them 
pleasant  stories  to  illustrate  their  lessons  and 
make  them  remember  them,  and  strove  in  every 
way  to  do  them  good  and  make  them  happy. 
Every  young  heart  opened  unconsciously  to 
the  new  teacher,  showing  her  what  pleasures 
and  hopes  and  griefs  had  already  entered  those 
little  throbbing  lite-chambers ;  and  for  each 
and  all  she  had  some  kind  word  of  encouraging 
sympathy. 

Though  devoted  to  her  pupils  alike,  none 
of  them  interested  Miss  Willis  like  Lucy  Lee, 


LUCY  LEE.  135 

the  modest,  motherly  child,  to  whom  all  the 
younger  ones  in  school  looked  for  care  and  di- 
rection. She  had  never  met  a  child  of  more 
marked  intellectual  character,  or  one  who 
manifested  as  plainly  the  tastes  and  tempera- 
ment of  genius.  What  could  she  do  for  such 
a  shrinking  sensitive  nature,  whose  powers  as 
yet  were  only  like  the  feeble  wings  of  an  un- 
fledged bird  calling  for  brooding  tenderness 
and  cherishing  love  to  make  them  grow  strong, 
and  aid  them  to  unfold  rightly  ?  Miss  Willis 
knew  well  how  many  such,  natures,  chilled  by 
adverse  circumstances,  never  expand  to  full 
size ;  which,  for  ever  fluttering,  can  never 
mount  up  into  the  higher  atmosphere  of  their 
kindred. 

Lucy  knew  nothing  of  what  was  so  often  in 
her  teacher's  mind.  She  knew  only  that  she 
never  laughed  at  her  strange  questionings,  or 
chided  her  for  not  thinking  and  talking  about 
such  things  as  other  children  did.  So,  as  she 
became  better  acquainted,  her  heart  opened  un- 
consciously, and  revealed  to  her  new  friend 


136  LUCY  LEE. 

depths  of  thought  and  feeling  which  none  had 
discovered  before.  Often  at  recess,  while  string- 
ing a  boy's  kite,  or  mending  a  ball,  or  showing 
some  little  girl  how  to  cut  paper-roses,  would 
Miss  Willis  whisper  a  quaint  story  to  Lucy 
Lee,  or  repeat  some  old  legend,  which  she 
knew  would  recreate  the  young  student  more 
than  all  the  amusements  which  her  compa- 
nions loved. 

Miss  Willis's  stories  were  very  different 
from  the  nursery  tales,  "  Old  Mother  Hubbard," 
"  London  Bridge,"  or  "  Jack's  Bean,"  the  only 
stories  Lucy  had  ever  heard,  except  her  favor- 
ite Bible  stories.  She  listened  with  rapt  atten- 
tion to  the  fanciful  tales  of  "  Undine  "  and  of 
"  Echo,"  or  of  the  beautiful  sisters  of  "  Hyas," 
who  wept  themselves  to  stars  for  the  loss  of 
their  brother.  The  stories  of  "Iduna  and  her 
Apples"  and  of  "  Bifrost,"  the  "Kainbow 
Bridge,"  which  nearly  every  child  reads  about 
now,  were  new  to  her  and  charmed  her  exceed- 
ingly. They  were  something  like  the  myths  of 
her  own  busy  imagination. 


LUCY  LEE.  137 

Spelling,  writing,  grammar,  geography,  or 
arithmetic,  never  wearied  the  little  ones  at 
Miss  Willis's  school,  though  they  studied 
hard,  and  made  rapid  proficiency  ;  for  intellec- 
tual pastime  was  rightly  blended  with  intellec- 
tual labor.  Teaching  is  one  of  the  fine  arts, 
for  which  few  are  divinely  gifted,  though  a 
host  of  men  and  women  enter  upon  it  as  un- 
fitly as  the  mechanic  artisan,  who,  with  a  dol- 
lar-and-cent  eye  alone,  should  set  up  for  a 
Claude  Lorraine.  More  delicate  even  than  his 
should  be  the  teacher's  touches,  who  draws  on 
a  young  child's  heart  lines  for  immortality. 
Miss  Willis  was  eminently  endowed  by  nature 
for  her  favorite  pursuit.  She  had  not  only  a 
faculty  to  impart  knowledge,  but  the  principle 
to  leave  no  false  impression  on  the  minds  of 
her  tender  learners.  What  each  budding  na- 
ture required  for  a  vigorous  unfolding  was 
her  most  earnest  study,  while  her  daily  prayer 

arose  for  heavenly  counsel  and  direction. 
18 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  winter  among  the  mountains  passed 
delightfully  with  the  little  ones  who  attended 
the  farm-house  school.  Lucy,  who  had  never 
used  a  pen  before,  was  soon  able  to  write  a 
plain,  pretty  hand,  and  could  analyse  and  parse 
a  sentence  better  than  many  an  older  gramma- 
rian. Harry  could  travel  anywhere  on  the 
map  of  the  United  States  with  his  eyes  shut, 
and  tell  the  largest  cities,  the  longest  rivers, 
and  the  highest  mountains  on  the  globe ;  and 
he  could  numerate  as  many  figures  besides 
as  the  black-board  would  hold.  The  little 
things  who  commenced  at  A  B  C  were  soon 
reading  about  "  Feeding  the  Old  Hen"  or  doing 
some  other  more  wonderful  feat,  to'  the  asto- 
nishment of  their  parents,  who  thought  them 
all  prodigies. 


LUCY  LEE.  139 

No  day  was  stormy  enough  to  keep  them 
home  peaceably.  If  the  snow  fell,  and  the 
cold  winds  blew  it  up  in  heaps  ever  so  high, 
the  great  oxen  could  break  through  the  drifts 
and  draw  them  on  the  wide  sled  safely  to  the 
school-room  door.  The  colder  the  day,  the 
warmer  they  knew  would  be  their  teacher's 
greeting,  and  the  better  their  chances  for  a 
pleasant  story  at  recess. 

One  cold,  blustering  January  morning,  the 
young  Lees  carried  an  extra  basket  with  them 
to  school.  It  was  filled  with  corn  popped 
white  as  the  Yermont  snow-flakes.  Miss 
Willis  was  very  fond  of  it,  and  the  basket  was 
for  her.  She  smiled  as  she  took  it,  and  told 
them  her  next  story  should  be  an  Indian  Corn 
Legend. 

That  very  noon  it  was  snowing  and  blowing, 
so  they  could  not  play  out  of  the  house,  and 
the  children  reminded  the  teacher  of  her  pro- 
mise. She  went  and  brought  a  portfolio,  and 
from  a  number  of  papers  selected  the  follow- 
ing, which  she  read : 


140  LUCY  LEE. 

Come  around  me,  little  children, 

This  stormy  winter  morn, 
And  I  will  tell  you  a  story 

About  the  Indian  Corn — 
Which  grew  first  up  in  heaven 

(The  story-tellers  say), 
Till  the  Master  of  all  Spirits 

Spoke  thus  to  it  one  day : 


"  Go  down  to  the  earth,  Mondamin  1 

My  children  there  lack  food  I 
Grow  tall  and  strong  in  the  valleys, 

And  do  the  Redmen  good. 
They  shall  not  hurt  nor  waste  you, 

But  foster  you  with  care ; 
And  plant  in  the  spring-time  only 

Sufficient  for  one  year." 

Then  dropped  the  good  Mondamin, 

Like  dew,  from  heaven  to  earth : 
And  the  Redmen  danced  new  dances 

In  honor  of  his  worth. 
They  praised  his  golden  tresses, 

And  his  form  so  tall  and  slim, 
Till  Mondamin  loved  the  Redmen, 

And  the  Redmen  all  loved  him. 


LUCY  LEE.  14:1 


But  one  year  the  great  Miamies 

Forgot  the  Master's  rule, 
And  left  the  stranger  standing, 

When  all  their  sacks  were  full, 
Within  the  open  cornfield, 

Where  the  idlers  went  each  morn 
To  throw  at  one  another 

The  broken  ears  of  corn. 


The  Master  of  Life  beheld  them ! 

And  when  his  children  went 
To  their  winter  hunt  in  the  forests 

Where  deer  abounded,  He  sent 
Aside  the  point  of  each  arrow, 

And  led  in  a  weary  plight 
The  empty-handed  hunters 

Back  to  their  camp  at  night 

An  old  man  spake  one  morning, 

And  said :  "I  am  weak,  my  son  1 
For  meat  or  broth  I  am  fainting  !  " 

His  son  replied :  "Not  one 
Of  the  oldest  of  our  hunters 

Can  kill  with  bow  or  spear  I 
The  Redman's  God  must  be  angry, 

For  the  forests  are  full  of  deer." 


142  LUCY  LEK 

Next  morn  that  same  young  hunter 

Went  forth  again,  to  try 
To  kill  some  game  for  his  father, 

Who  was  old  and  ready  to  die. 
All  day  he  wandered  vainly 

'Mid  herds  he  could  not  kill, 
Till  he  lost  his  way  hi  the  forest, 

And  came  to  a  little  rill 


With  a  wigwam  close  beside  it. 

Quoth  he :  "I  will  rest  to-night 
Until  morning  lift  the  curtain 

Of  the  Eastern  House  of  Light ; 
For  I  have  no  meat  for  my  father  1 " 

As  his  ateps  to  the  lodge  drew  nigher, 
He  saw  an  old  man  sitting 

With  his  back  turned  towards  the  fire. 


"  Grandfather,  your  child  is  weary !  " 

The  youthful  hunter  said. 
"  All  day  he  has  roved  in  the  forest — 

All  day  he  has  tasted  no  bread ! 
The  little  ones  of  his  nation 

And  the  aged  cry  for  food. 
But  dull  is  the  aim  of  the  hunter, 

While  the  doer  run  wild  in  the  wood.1 


LUCY  LEE.  143 

"  My  eon,"  said  the  old  man,  groaning, 

"  There  is  food  in  the  kettle,  you'll  find : 
Go  satisfy  your  hunger, 

And  then  I  will  speak  my  mind." 
When  the  repast  was  over, 

He  opened  his  mouth,  and  said : 
"  0 1  cruel  and  vain  Miamies, 

Whom  I  so  long  have  fed ! 


By  them  was  my  back-bone  broken ! 

By  them  was  I  bruised  and  torn, 
And  none  said :  ' '  Tis  poor  Mondamin, 

The  Spirit  of  the  Corn! ' 
But  my  cry  went  up  to  heaven ; 

And  the  good  Great  Father  said : 
'  I  will  give  to  that  nation  famine 

Till  the  living  eat  their  dead! ' " 


The  hunter  rose  next  morning 

And  went  back  to  his  clan, 
Where  every  word  lie  repeated 

Of  that  broken-backed  old  man. 
And  never  since  then  at  harvest 

Has  an  Indian  treated  with  scorn 
The  body  of  Mondamin, 

The  Spirit  of  the  Corn. 


LUCY  LEE. 

The  children  were  delighted  with  the  "  Corn 
Legend,"  and  asked  so  many  questions  about 
the  Indians,  and  whether  they  really  believed 
such  queer  things,  that  Miss  "Willis  hardly 
knew  how  to  answer  them.  She  said  many  of 
the  Indian  tribes  believed  the  corn  a  sacred 
grain,  and  that  great  famine  would  follow  its 
waste  or  abuse  ;  which  was  in  a  measure  true, 
as  they  depended  upon  it  more  than  upon  any- 
thing else  for  their  winter  food.  Every  tribe 
had  some  wonderful  tradition  respecting  its 
origin,  similar  to  the  one  she  had  j  ust  read  to 
them.  They  would  altogether  make  a  large 
book.  The  Indians  had  great  respect  and  vene- 
ration for  their  old  traditions,  she  told  them, 
and  would  be  far  less  likely  to  destroy  the 
cornfields  of  their  enemies,  Or  waste  their  own 
grain,  if  taught  it  was  a  spirit-gift,  and  under 
the  special  protection  of  the  "  Master  of 
Life." 

Then  she  talked  with  them  a  long  time 
about  the  customs  of  the  Kedmen,  some  of 
which  are  very  beautiful,  and  others  dreadfully 


LUCY  LEE.  145 

savage.  Miss  Willis  had  visited '  a  number  of 
tribes  in  their  own  homes,  and  was  acquainted 
with  their  habits  as  well  as  with  their  tradi- 
tionary stories. 

When  the  clock  struck  one,  the  children 
could  scarcely  believe  an  hour  had  passed  so 
quickly,  and  that  the  intermission  was  over. 
Lucy  asked  permission  to  copy  the  Corn  Legend 
some  time,  and  was  promised  that  and  other 
legends  besides.  Then  the  scholars  went  to 
their  seats,  and  strove  by  their  diligence  and 
good  behavior  to  show  that  they  were  not 
ungrateful  for  their  teacher's  love  and  kind- 
ness. 

19 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NOT  one  of  Miss  Willis's  scholars  was  glad 
to  feel  the.  warm  breath  of  spring  among  their 
native  hills ;  for  with  the  spring  they  would 
lose  their  beloved  teacher.  The  winter,  though 
a  very  cold  and  stormy  one,  had  seemed  too 
short  to  them  all.  Lucy  grieved  more  than 
the  others  in  prospect  of  their  loss,  and  often 
asked  herself  what  she  could  do  when  school 
was  over.  She  had  learned  a  great  deal  in 
one  winter — among  other  things,  how  much 
there  is  to  be  learned — which  she  had  never 
known  about  before  Miss  Willis  came.  Who 
would  direct  her  how  to  do,  and  what  to  do 
first,  when  she  was  gone  'away  ?  Her  mother 
could  not ;  she  had  her  hands  full  of  labor, 
and  did  not  care  much  any  way  for  the  things 
Lucy  fancied  most.  Her  father,  who  under- 


LUCY  LEE.  '  147 

stood  her  nature  and  disposition  better,  was 
always  at  work  providing  for  the  daily  bread 
of  his  little  flock,  and  had  very  little  time  to 
question  or  instruct.  If  he  couldn't  give  them 
much  education,  he  reasoned,  they  must  ma- 
nage to  live  without  it  as  he  had  done ;  but 
food  to  eat  and  clothes  to  wear  they  must  have 
or  die.  How  many  such  parents  there  are  in 
the  world,  with  strength  and  energies  all  ex- 
hausted in  procuring  the  common,  every-day 
necessities  of  life,  who  have  neither  time  to 
attend  to  the  wants  of  the  immortal  nature 
nor  means  to  satisfy  its  cravings !  Little  do 
children,  whose  paths  are  surrounded  with  lux- 
uries, and  who  neglect  to  improve  the  privi- 
leges lavished  upon  them,  think  how  many 
young  hearts  would  be  made  rich  with  only 
a  small  share  of  what  they  possess !  The  very 
books  you  so  carelessly  destroy,  my  little 
friends,  would  have  made  Lucy  Lee  happy  for  a 
long  time  ;  and  the  lessons  they  contain  would 
have  added  to  her  life-long  store  of  wisdom. 
In  Mr.  Lee's  house  were  only  a  Bible  and  a 


148  LUCY  LEE. 

psalm-book,  a  volume  of  Watts's  lyric  poems, 
and  a  copy  of  Shakspeare,  purchased  when  he 
was  a  young  man,  and  made  his  first  and  only 
visit  to  New  York.  All  of  these  Lucy  had 
read  since  she  could  spell  out  the  first  words, 
and  they  had  tinged  with  a  warmer  glow  her 
naturally  poetic  nature.  Her  father  often  said,  if 
a  person  had  a  Bible  for  Sunday,  and  a  Shak- 
speare for  winter  evenings,  he  had  always  read- 
ing enough. 

When  the  children  wanted  school-books, 
they  saved  their  nuts  and  sent  them  to  market 
with  part  of  the  winter  apples,  and  the  new 
spelling-books,  Testament,  grammar,  geogra- 
phy, and  arithmetic,  seemed  to  them  more  than 
compensation  for  their  loss*  Their  father  had 
a  slate,  which  was  newly  framed  for  them,  and 
so  the  children  were  fitted  for  school.  Their 
mother  put  thumb-marks  into  the  new  books 
for  their  better  preservation,  for  things  pro- 
cured with  difficulty  and  self-denial  are  apt  to 
be  cared  for  more  than  those  which  follow  the 
mere  asking. 


LUCY  LEE.  149 

After  Lucy  had  learned  to  write,  Miss  Willis 
presented  her  with  a  neat  blank  book,  in 
which  she  might  copy  anything  that  pleased 
her.  Before  spring  she  had  written  within  it 
several  very  pretty  poems,  and  two  or  three 
wild  Indian  legends,  something  like  the  one 
in  the  last  chapter.  One  of  them  was  about  a 
little  boy  who  was  changed  to  a  robin  red- 
breast on  account  of  fasting  too  long.  The 
other  was  a  story  of  a  youth  who  wandered 
away  to  the  spirit-land  to  find  the  soul  of  his 
dead  sister.  He  found  her  and  brought  her 
home  in  a  gourd.  Lucy  often  read  over  these 
fanc.iful  stories  to  herself,  and  sometimes  to  her 
father  and  mother.  Mr.  Lee  said  they  were 
real  Indian-like,  and  he  wished  Miss  Willis 
had  more  such ;  but  his  wife  thought  there 
wasn't  a  bit  of  sense  to  them,  and  wondered 
how  so  good  a  teacher  could  be  putting  such 
nonsense  into  children's  heads. 

The  last  day  of  school  came  soon.  It  was 
the  first  of  April,  a  pleasant,  sunshiny  day, 
but  none  of  the  little  ones  felt  like  April  fool- 


150  LUCY  LEE. 

ing  as  usual.  Lucy  shed  many  tears  by  the 
way  that  morning,  and  her  eyes  were  red  when 
she  entered  the  school-room.  Miss  Willis  felt 
very  sad  as  she  went  through  the  exercises  for 
the  last  time,  not  knowing  whether  she  would 
ever  meet  the  dear  children  again  in  the  world. 
After  the  lessons  were  over,  she  talked  to  them 
kindly  and  tenderly ;  -bade  them  be  good  chil- 
dren, and  try  to  grow  up  good  men  and 
women.  She  counselled  them  earnestly  to 
honor  their  parents ;  to  love  one  another ;  and 
above  all,  to  love  and  fear  God,  their  kind, 
heavenly  parent.  She  was  going  far  from 
them,  and  hoped  never  to  hear  a  bad  report  of 
any  one  of  them.  Then  she  knelt  down,  and 
prayed  that  they  might  all  be  watched  over 
and  protected,  wherever  their  young  feet  might 
wander  on  the  uncertain  journey  of  life,  and 
be  gathered  together  again  in  the  Saviour's 
fold  at  the  end  of  the  way. 

After  giving  to  each  some  little  token  of  re- 
membrance, the  pleasant  school  at  the  farm- 
house was  dismissed.  When  they  had  gather- 


LUCY  LEE.  151 

ed  up  their  books,  the  children  went  one  by 
one  for  a  last  kiss,  then  ran  home  quickly  to 
show  their  respective  gifts. 

All  but  Lucy.  She  remained  a  little  longer 
with  Miss  Willis,  who  wished,  to  say  some 
things  to  her,  which  she  could  not  say  so  well 
in  presence  of  the  whole  school.  As  soon  as 
the  little  ones  were  all  gone,  she  sat  down  on 
the  bench  beside  her,  and  took  her  hand  kind- 
ly in  her  own.  She  was  too  much  affected  by 
the  child's  half-smothered  grief  to  speak  at 
first ;  but  when  she  did,  her  voice  was'  clear 
and  sweet  as  usual. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  leave  you,"  she  said; 
"  but  such  things  have  to  be,  all  through  life. 
I  have  been  much  interested  in  you,  Lucy,  and 
shall  be  so  still  when  we  are  separated.  Con- 
tinue to  improve  as  you  have  done,  my  child." 

"  But  I  shall  have  no  one  to  help  me  when 
you  are  gone,"  interrupted  Lucy,  with  sobs.  "  I 
am  afraid  I  shall  never  go  to  school  again,  or 
learn  anything  more." 

"You   mustn't  get  discouraged,  my  dear. 


152  LUCY  LEE. 

You  are  a  little  girl  yet,  and  have  many  years 
to  learn  in.  I  have  marked  some  lessons  for 
you  to  study  by  yourself  in  the  history  I  gave 
you  this  afternoon,  and  have  written  in  a  letter, 
which  you  will  find  inside,  some  things  I  wish 
you  to  think  about.  You  can  write  to  me 
whenever  you  find  any  difficulty  which  you 
cannot  overcome,  and  I  shall  always  feel 
pleased  to  give  you  my  opinion.  I  think,  with 
a  little  practice,  you  will  find  it  very  easy  to 
express  your  thoughts  on  paper.  Have  you 
ever  tried,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  written  down  the  things  you 
gave  me  in  my  book." 

"  I  will  send  you  some  more,  Lucy ;  and 
you  shall  write  how  they  please  you.  I  have 
another  little  present  for  you  in  my  desk." 

Miss  Willis  went  and  brought  a  small  port- 
folio filled  with  paper  and  envelopes.  "  It  is 
not  a  new  one,"  she  said ;  "I  have  used  it  for 
many  years,  but  am  sure  you  will  not  like  it 
the  less  on  that  account.  You  will  find  a  card 
of  pens  and  some  pencils  in  one  part ;  so  you 


LUCY  LEE.  153 

will  have  everything  handy  when  you  wish  to 
write.  Now,  my  dear,  you  must  promise  me 
to  do  your  best,  and  some  day,  perhaps,  you 
will  come  West  and  be  a  teacher ;  or  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  you  should  write  books  for 
children  to  read.  You  can  do  almost  anything 
you  try,  I  know,  Lucy.  You  recollect  those 
beautiful  lines  you  copied,  don't  you  ? 

"  '  Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 

We  may  make  our  lives  sublime  ; 
And  departing,  leave  behind  us 

Footsteps  on  the  sands  of  Time : 
Footsteps  that  perhaps  another, 

Sailing  o'er  life's  stormy  main, 
Some  forlorn  and  shipwrecked  brother, 

Seeing,  may  take  heart  again  1  ' " 

Miss  Willis  never  spoke  to  Lucy  Lee  as  to 
most  other  children  of  her  age ;  for  her 
thoughts  were  not  like  those  of  ordinary  chil- 
dren. When  she  had  done  talking  to  her, 
Lucy  strove  in  vain  for  words  to  thank  her  for 

all  her  kindness.    Miss  Willis  read  in  her  grate- 
20 


154: 


LUCY  LEE. 


ful  looks  and  tearful  eyes  the  expression  she 
could  not  utter,  and  with  a  last  silent  kiss 
they  parted. 


CHAPTER   V. 

SCHOOL  was  over,  and  Miss  Willis  gone. 
There  were  some  dreary  days  among  the 
mountains  that  spring,  days  when  winter 
.  seemed  about  to  return  with  all  its  stormy  fol- 
lowers. Lucy  found  very  little  opportunity  to 
study,  for  they  kept  but  one  fire,  and  the  chil- 
dren were  noisier,  and  more  impatient  of  re- 
straint, for  the  few  days  of  sunshine  they  had 
enjoyed.  She  had  a  little  room  up-stairs  under 
the  cottage  eaves,  where  she  slept  and  kept  her 
few  treasures.  One  rainy  day  her  father  made 
her  a  small  pine  table,  with  a  drawer  in  it  for 
her  books  and  portfolio,  that  she  might  keep 
them  out  of  the  way  of  the  children.  She 
was  more  pleased  with  the  simple  arrangement 
than  many  girls  I  have  known  with  very  rich- 
ly furnished  apartments.  But  it  was,  too  cold 


156  LUCY  LEE. 

for  her  to  sit  there  now,  and,  besides,  her  mother 
had  a  good  deal  of  knitting  and  sewing  for  her 
when  the  house-work  was  done.  So  she 
worked  all  day  busy  as  a  bee,  thinking  how 
pleasant  it  would  be  when  the  long  warm  days 
came,  and  she  could  find  a  little  time  for  the 
lessons  Miss  "Willis  had  marked  out  for  her. 

After  the  younger  children  were  put  to  bed, 
Lucy  sometimes  went  for  her  history,  and  ask- 
ed her  father  to  read  aloud,  while  her  mother  . 
sewed,  and  she  knit  upon  his  long  stockings. 
This  was  very  pleasant ;  and  Lucy,  after  listen- 
ing to  his  reading,  often  went  to  bed  to  dream 
of  Christopher  Columbus  and  his  wanderings 
from  kingdom  to  kingdom  to  find  some  one 
able  and  willing  to  help  him  go  and  make  dis~ 
coveries.  One  night  she  dreamed  of  going 
herself  to  Queen  Isabella,  and  begging  she 
would  send  the  old  man  to  look  up  the  beauti- 
ful new  world  beyond  the  ocean.  The  Queen 
promised  her,  and  Lucy  awoke  bewildered 
with  joy,  to  hear  the  rain  pattering  on  the  roof 
of  the  little  farm-house  ainono:  the  mountains. 


LUCY  LEE.  157 

There  was  a  wide  difference  betwixt  her  low, 
dark  chamber,  and  the  great  shining  palace  of 
royalty  through  which  she  had  been  wander- 
ing in  a  dream.  She  was  very  glad,  however, 
to  think  that  Columbus  had  found  his  new 
world,  and  that,  safe  in  her  little  table  drawer, 
she  had  more  than  three  hundred  years  of  its 
history. 

But  the  evenings  soon  grew  too  short,  and 
her  father  too  weary  after  a  hard  day's  work, 
to  read  any  more.  Lucy  was  very  sorry,  but 
it  could  not  be  helped. 

The  mountain-tops  lost  their  white  caps  of 
snow,  and  there  was  less  rain  and  more  days  of 
sunshine.  The  children  heard  a  bluebird  sing- 
ing one  morning  in  the  orchard,  and  it  made 
their  pulses  beat  quicker,  as  the  first  bird- 
song  always  does  after  a  long  winter  of  ice 
and  snow.  The  robins  came  soon  after,  and 
chirped  around  the  door  and  picked  up  the 
crumbs.  One  of  them  began  a  nest  in  the  old 
lilac-bush,  where  there  had  been  a  nest  every 
year  since  the  children  could  remember. 


158  LUCY  LEE. 

Lucy  told  her  brothers  what  the  Indians 
thought  the  reason  the  redbreast  was  tamer  than 
other  birds,  and  why  it  always  loved  to  be 
around  human  habitations.  They  were  much 
interested,  and  wished  her  to  read  the  whole 
story  to  them.  So  she  went  for  her  portfolio, 
and  sat  down  on  the  door-stone,  in  the  sun, 
and  read  the  "  Legend  of  the  Kedbreast,"  just 
as  dear  Miss  Willis  had  given  it  to  her.  As 
some  of  my  young  readers  may  like  to  know 
what  it  was,  I  will  write  it  down  here  for  them 
to  read  too : 

LEGEND  OP  THE  REDBREAST. 

Many  marvellous  stories 

Do  the  fanciful  Redmen  tell, 
When  the  lodge-fires  burn  at  evening, 

And  the  wintry  storms  compel 
From  the  hunt  of  the  bear  and  the  bison : 

There  is  one  I  remember  well. 

I  heard  it  not  in  the  wigwam 

In  the  midst  of  a  dusky  ring, 
But  away  in  the  Northern  forest 

On  a  pleasant  mom  in  spring, 


LUCY  LEE.  159 

"With  robins  singing  around  me, 
And  blossoms  awakening. 

There  was  once  a  Chippewa  hunter 

Prom  youth  bred  up  to  the  chase, 
Who  at  length  grew  over-ambitious ; 

And  shadows  fell  dark  on  his  face 
As  he  marked  how  the  men  of  the  war-trail 

Sat  next  to  the  chiefs  in  place. 

Moody  he  went  in  the  morning 

To  the  forest  with  his  spear ; 
Moody  he  came  at  evening 

And  laid  at  his  door  the  deer, 
Till  Wdsayah,  "  Light  of  the  Wigwam," 

Wept  many  a  sorrowful  tear. 

A  change  had  come  over  her  hunter ; 

She  whispered  the  tale  to  none, 
But  folded  her  heart-strings  closer 

And  fonder  around  her  son, 
The  last  of  Wasayah's  children, 

Her  delicate  Wanbegoon.* 

The  boy  was  a  marvel  of  beauty ; 

But  for  boyhood  too  tender  and  fair. 
His  cheek  was  soft  as  a  maiden's, 

As  silken  and  glossy  his  hair ; 

*  "  Littie  Blossom."—  Chippewa. 


160  LUCY  LEE. 

Not  a  child  in  the  Chippewa  country 
Had  ever  so  gentle  an  air. 

There  was  light  in  the  eye  of  the  hunter, 

And  joy  in  his  spirit  again, 
As  he  marked  how  his  son  grew  in  stature  I 

And  he  taught  him  the  lore  of  his  clan, 
And  called  him  Ne-gitch-e-dan-een, 

"  His  brave  little  Warrior-man." 

The  suns  rolled  round  in  the  heavens ; 

The  red  boy  was  twelve  years  old, 
Still  timid  and  tender  as  ever, 

Though  so  often  his  father  had  told 
Him  he  never  should  grow  up  a  hunter, 

But  a  warrior  bloody  and  bold. 

The  fasting  days  were  approaching ; 

Those  days  of  highest  esteem, 
When  the  red  youth  seeth  in  vision 

A  destiny  supreme, 
And  the  paths  of  his  life  are  appointed 

By  the  spirit  of  his  dream. 

Then  the  hunter  went  forth  one  morning, 
And  built,  with  an  air  of  pride, 

A  lodge  of  the  fragrant  birches 
That  grew  by  the  river's  side ; 


LUCY  LEE.  161 

While  Wdsaydh,  weeping,  was  weaving 
The  mat  her  love  would  provide. 

That  evening  the  voice  of  the  father 

Exhofted  the  lad  to  be  strong ; 
To  quail  not,  nor  faint  like  a  woman  ; 

But  the  days  of  his  fast  to  prolong 
Till  the  voice  of  a  powerful  spirit 

Should  teach  him  the  warrior's  song. 

Poor  Ningwis,  the  gentle  and  yielding, 

Gave  promise  his  wish  to  fulfil ; 
He  watched  the  form  of  his  father, 

Till  it  vanished  over  the  hill ; 
Then  lay  down  on  his  mat  of  green  rushes, 

With  a  meek  and  obedient  will 

But  that  summer  night  was  so  lonely ! 

The  sounds  he  had  loved  to  hear 
When  sitting  beside  the  wigwam 

Grew  terrible  in  his  ear ; 
The  night-bird's  song  in  the  forest, 

And  the  wolfs  howl,  made  him  fear. 

The  whippoorwill's  cry  was  mournful, 

The  katydid's  made  him  weep ; 
But  he  called  on  the  guardian  spirits 

That  over  the  universe  keep 
21 


162  LUCT  LEE. 

Soft  watches  of  love  for  the  lonely  I 
Then  quietly  fell  asleep. 

Eight  days,  with  no  word  of  complaining, 
The  youth  kept  his  torturing  fafct ; 

Poor  Wasayah  wept  in  her  wigwam, 
Loathing  her  own  repast, 

While  Ningwis  grew  fainter  and  weaker ; 
But  he  spake  to  his  father  at  last: 

"  My  dreams  are  not  good,  0  my  father  I 
The  spirit  that  cometh  to  me 

Shows  not  the  paths  of  the  warriors ; 
And  this  fasting  is  agony. 

But  give  me  a  morsel  this  morning, 
And  I'll  try  it  again  for  thee." 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet !  "  said  the  hunter, 
"  Or  all  will  be  lost  that  is  won  I 

Have  courage  a  little  longer, 

And  the  spirits  will  come,  my  son  1 

The  great  ones  who  lead  on  the  war-trail— 
Tour  fasting  will  then  be  done  1 " 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  blanket, 
The  depth  of  his  anguish  to  hide. 

Eleven  days  he  fasted  and  famished, 
When  his  sire  stood  again  by  his  side, 


LUCY  LEE.  163 

"  Pood !  food  I "  was  all  he  could  utter. 
More  gently  his  father  replied : 

"  To-morrow  I'll  come  with  it  early, 
"While  the  light  of  the  dawning  is  dim, 

'  Tis  the  last  dark  night  of  your  weakness, 
Then  cometh  the  victory-hymn  I " 

Alas !  for  the  morning  and  evening 
Were  getting  alike  to  him! 

A  mist  hung  over  his  eyelids ; 

His  strength  had  forsaken  him  quite ; 
And  he  lay  like  one  passively  dying  ' 

All  the  lone,  long,  sorrowful  night ; 
But  a  spirit  came  with  the  daybreak 

And  brought  to  the  dark  one  light. 

And  with  food  to  the  lodge  uext  morning 

The  hunter  impatiently  sped ; 
And  lo  1  there  poor  Ningwis  was  sitting 

Erect  on  his  rush-woven  bed, 
Grey  wings  grown  out  of  his  shoulders, 

And  his  breast  all  feathered  and  red. 

"  My  son !  my  son  I  do  not  leave  me," 

In  anguish  the  father  conjured ! 
"  Live  in  peace  in  the  home  of  the  hunter  I  " 

The  lad  answered  never  a  word, 


164  LUCY  LEE. 

But  flew  to  the  top  of  the  wigwam 
In  the  shape  of  a  beautiful  bird. 

He  sang  as  he  went :  "  My  change  should  not  grieve  you, 

I  am  happier  now,  and  I  never  will  leave  you  I 

I  can  give  you  sweet  songs,  for  the  bird  is  my  brother, 

The  bird  that  watched  over  my  slumbers  when  young, 

And  Ningwis  each  morning  will  sing  to  his  mother 

As  he  sits  on  the  bough  where  his  cradle  was  hung. 

He  can  pick  the  red  berries  high-  up  on  the  tree, 

And  sing  to  the  childreji,  '  Pee-chee !  0-pee-chee.' 

He  will  faint  not  from  weakness,  nor  groan  under  care : 

"With  his  bed  on  the  tree-top,  his  path  in  the  air, 

The  meadows  and  mountains  will  furnish  him  food." 

Thus  ending  his  song,  he  flew  off  to  the  wood. 

Such  is  the  singular  story 

The  fanciful  Redmen  tell, 
When  asked  why  0-pee-chee,  the  redbreast, 

Loveth  men's  haunts  so  welL 
And  the  tawny  children  hear  it 

By  the  winter  lodge-fire's  blaze, 
And  tell  it  o'er  on  the  prairies 

In  the  pleasant  strawberry  days. 

Every  Indian  youth,  arriving  at  a  certain 
age,  retires  to  some  lonely  spot  to  fast  for  his 


LUCT  LEE.  165 

guardian  spirit.  Sometimes  he  goes  to  the  top 
of  a  high  hill  or  mountain,  sometimes  to  the 
forest,  or  to  some  lonely  island  in  the  waters, 
where  he  waits  for  the  coming  of  his  life-guide. 
Whatever  object  appears  to  him  there  be- 
comes sacred  through  all  the  years  to  come. 
To  such  guardian  spirits,  the  poor,  superstitious 
Kedmen  direct  their  prayers  for  help  in  every 
time  of  need,  as  well  as  their  war-songs  and 
death-songs. 

Lucy  and  her  brothers  talked  a  long  time 
about  poor  Ningwis  and  his  sad  fate.  Lucy 
thought  perhaps  the  ambition  of  the  hunter 
was  told  as  a  warning  for  people  to  be  con- 
tented with  their  own  lot.  She  did  not  know, 
for,  like  all  Indian  stories,  it  was  very  strange 
and  wild.  Harry  and  Charley  didn't  believe 
a  word  about  it,  any  way  ;  and  yet  they  said 
they  should  never  kill  a  robin  if  they  could 
help  it,  nor  ever  see  one  again  without  think- 
ing of  Ningwis  and  his  cruel  father. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

ONE  bright  morning,  about  the  first  of  May, 
after  the  breakfast  things  were  washed  and  put 
away,  Lucy's  mother  told  her  to  take  the 
broom  and  sweep  the  chambers.  She  went 
first  to  the  one  occupied  by  her  brothers.  It 
was  a  large  back  room,  and  as  bare  of  furni- 
ture as  bare  could  be.  A  low  bedstead  stood 
in  one  corner,  with  a  blue,  home-made  coverlet 
spread  over  it ;  the  figures  upon  it  looking  so 
much  like  rough-shelled  butternuts,  the  little 
fellows  used  to  wake  up  and  count  them  in  the 
morning.  The  naked  rafters  were  hung  with 
last  year's  herbs:  May- weed,  boneset,  tansy, 
elder-flowers,  and  a  great  variety  of  mints,  all 
dried  and  blackened  with  age.  A  long  meal- 
chest,  divided  into  several  compartments  for  the 
various  kinds  of  meal  and  flour,  stood  before 


LUCY  LEE.  167 

one  window,  with  a  bread-trough  inverted  on 
the  cover ;  for  this  was  all  the  store-room  the 
cottage  contained.  A  spinning-wheel,  reel,  and 
swifts,  or  winders,  occupied  another  corner; 
and  this,  with  a  broken  chair  or  two,  is  a  cor- 
rect inventory  of  articles  in  the  boys'  chamber. 
Even  to  Lucy,  who  had  never,  except  in 
dreams,  seen  a  fine  house,  the  room  looked 
dark  and  mean  ;  and  she  made  haste  to  throw 
up  the  windows  and  let  in  the  bird-songs  and 
sweet  spring  breezes.  Then  the  bed  was  made 
neatly,  and  the  room  brushed  and  dusted  as 
carefully  as  though  it  had  been  a  palace 
chamber. 

Afterwards  she  went  to  her  own  apartment, 
which  was  smaller  and  more  suggestive  of  com- 
fort. Instead  of  bare  rafters,  the  walls  were 
coarsely  plastered  and  whitewashed,1  and  the 
one  window  was  curtained  with  a  width  of 
flowered  wall-paper,  left  when  the  best  room 
was  papered  below.  The  bed  was  as  low  and 
plainly  dressed  as  her  brothers' ;  but  near  it 
stood  the  little  pine  table  which  held  her  trea- 


168  L  UC7  LEE. 

sures,  and  she  forgot  the  nakedness  of  the 
floor,  and  the  absence  of  decoration,  in  the 
thought  of  these  gifts  of  her  beloved  teacher. 

The  window  was  wide  open,  and  a  bough 
of  the  old  sugar-maple-tree  that  shaded  the 
house  reached  almost  to  the  casement,  red 
with  blossoms,  and  rich  with  perfume.  Honey- 
bees were  humming  around  it  and  sipping  its 
sweets.  A  bluebird  was  carrying  threads  and 
wisps  of  straw  through  a  hole  which  a  red- 
headed woodpecker  had  tapped  in  its  hollow 
trunk,  while  an  old  robin  put  the  finishing 
touches  to  a  nest  she  had  been  busily  working 
upon  for  a  number  of  days. 

Lucy  forgot  her  work  for  once,  and  sat 
down  beside  the  window  to  look  and  listen. 
The  very  air  seemed  to  be  full  of  rejoicing 
that  bright  spring  morning.  A  little  way  off", 
in  the  hill-pasture,  she*  could  hear  the  voices 
of  the  young  lambs,  and  see  their  merry  gam- 
bols among  the  rocks.  Nothing  is  pleasanter 
in  spring-time  than  to  watch  the  playful  lambs. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  couldn't  write  something 


LUCY  LEE.  169 

about  this  beautiful  morning ! "  Lucy  exclaim- 
ed at  last.  "  I  never  tried  to  compose  any- 
thing myself,  but  Miss  Willis  thought  it  would 
be  easy  for  me  with  practice.  I  mean  to  try 
now." 

She  did  not  open  the  drawer  for  her  nice 
paper  and  pens.  She  had  a  little  bit  of  a 
wooden  pencil  in  her  pocket,  and  a  torn  leaf 
of  an  old  account-book  figured  all  over  on  one 
side.  These  were  good  enough,  she  thought, 
for  her  first  scribbling ;  so  she  wrote  "  Spring" 
on  the  top  of  the  paper,  as  almost  every  child 
does  for  the  first  composition,  then  fell  into  a 
deep  study. 

Very  soon  her  fingers  began  to  play ;  a. line 
or  two  were  written ;  then  there  was  another 
stop  and  study.  So  she  sat  wholly  absorbed 
in  her  new  exercise  an  hour  or  more.  Some- 
times her  lips  moved,  sometimes  her  fingers, 
until  at  last  she  started  up  and  said :  "  I  have 
done  it !  Yes  !  I  have  done  it." 

She  dropped  her  pencil,  forgot  her  broom 

and  everything  else  in  the  first  joy  of  author- 
22 


170  LUCY  LEE. 

ship.  "  I  thought  it  would  come  to  me  some 
time,"  she  mused;  "for  when  I  sleep  I  often 
repeat  verses  that  are  not  in  any  book  I  ever 
saw.  When  I  wake  up,  they  ring  in  my  ears 
a  long  time,  though  I  could  never  put  them 
together  again  so  they  would  sound  right.  I 
am  so  glad  I  have  done  this !  " 

And  Lucy  looked  glad  as  she  ran  down  the 
rough  uncarpeted  stairs,  and  stood  with  her 
torn  leaf  in  her  hand  in  the  presence  of  her 
mother. 

"  Mother,  won't  you  listen  ?  "  she  said,  going 
near  and  taking  hold  of  her  dress.  "  I  have 
said  something  myself  about  this  pleasant 
spring  morning,  and  want  you  'to  hear  it." 

"  Said  something  yourself!  "  exclaimed  her 
mother,  not  quite  comprehending  Lucy's  mean- 
ing. "  Why,  you've  got  something  written 
there,  haven't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  but  then  I  said  it  to  myself  first,  you 
know.  I  didn't  write  it  out  of  any  book,  and 
no  one  told  it  to  me  either." 

"  Well,  well,  then,  make  haste  with  your 


LUCY  LEE.  171 

nonsense,  or  else  the  baby  will  wake  up  before 
the  work  is  done." 

Lucy  commenced,  and  read  in  a  trembling 
voice  the  two  following  verses  upon  "  Spring : " 

The  winter  is  past,  the  spring  has  returned, 

And  all  things  look  lively  and  gay, 
The  robins  and  bluebirds  together  have  come, 

And  the  country  resounds  with  their  lay. 

. 
The  lambs  on  the  sunny  south  hill-side  are  seen 

Frisking  and  frolicking, 
And  the  trees  in  the  orchard  begin  to  look  green, 

In  the  smiles  of  the  beautiful  spring. 

With  a  half-smile  on  her  lips,  Mrs.  Lee  lis- 
tened to  her  daughter's  first  composition. 
"When  it  was  finished,  she  'laughed  aloud. 
Lucy  looked  up  for  some  word  of  approbation, 
but  her  mother  only  said :  "  What  sort  of  a 
line  do  you  call  that,  Frisking  '  and  frolick- 
ing ?  '  It  is  a  dreadful  short  one  beside  the 
others,  and  hasn't  much  sense  in  it  either." 

"  I  know,  mother !     The  line  didn't  suit  me 


172  LUCY  LEE. 

but  then  I  had  to  have  some  word  at  the  end 
of  it  to  sound  like  spring,  and  couldn't  think 
of  anything  better." 

"  That's  always  the  way  with  folks  that  make 
such  sort  of  nonsense.  Don't  you  go  to  trying 
to  make  verses,  Lucy,  for  nobody  was  ever 
known  to  be  good  for  anything  else  who  did. 
I  dare  say  the  chambers  won't  be  half  swept, 
now  you've  been  fooling." 

'"  The  boys'  is  well  done,  mother ;  mine 
isn't,"  Lucy  answered  truthfully. 

"  I  thought  as  much.  Go  now,  and  don't 
let  me  hear  any  more  about  your  '  frisking  and 
frolicking.' ': 

Never  did  a  child  fall  quicker  from  a  height 
of  happiness  than  did  Lucy  Lee.  She  had 
looked  for  some  little  word  of  commendation 
or  encouragement,  and  had  received  only  ridi- 
cule instead,  which  was  very  mortifying  to  a 
nature  like  hers.  Tears  filled  her  eyes,  but 
pride  forbade  their  falling  until  she  had  reached 
her  own  chamber  and  buttoned  fast  the  door. 
Then  she  wept  and  sobbed  as  though  her 


LUCY  LEE.  173 

young  heart  were  breaking.  The  brightness 
of  that  May  morning  no  longer  shone  in  Lucy's 
heart.  The  music  and  beauty  of  the  outer 
world  were  alike  forgotten. 

After  the  first  outburst  of  disappointed  feel- 
ing, she  wiped  her  eyes,  tore  the  unfortunate 
paper  in  two,  and  was  about  to  rend  it  in  frag- 
ments when  another  thought  seemed  to  take 
possession  of  her  mind.  What  it  was  she 
never  told,  but  the  pieces  of  her  composition 
were  folded  together  carefully  and  placed  in 
a  little  pasteboard  box  in  her  drawer,  wet  with 
her  tears.  The  tumbled  bed  was  then  laid  to- 
gether, and  the  neglected  broom  completed  the 
morning's  work. 

By  the  time  it  was  done,  she  was  called  to 
get  the  potatoes  for  dinner,  which  she  did  with 
a  spirit  from  which  all  the  life  and  sparkle  had 
fled.  Not  even  her  father's  proposition  that 
she  should  go  with  the  boys  for  artichokes  that 
afternoon  could  restore  her  joyousness,  though 
she  felt  very  glad  to  go  out  for  awhile  in  the 
cheerful  sunshine. 


174  LUCY  LEE. 

For  some  days  Lucy  went  about  the  house 
very  quietly  and  soberly.  Her  father  noticed 
it,  and  thought  she  was  wishing  to  go  to  school 
again,  she  had  been  so  lively  and  cheerful 
while  that  lasted.  Her  mother  said  there  was 
no  use  saying  a  word  to  her  about  walking  to 
the  village ;  it  was  too  far,  and  besides  she 
could  not  spare  her. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ONE  rainy  afternoon,  about  a  week  after 
Lucy's  attempt  at  verse-making,  her  father 
came  home  from  the  village  with  a  pleased, 
happy  look.  "What  do  you  think  I've  got 
for  Miss  Lucy  Leef"  he  asked,  as  she  was 
making  haste  to  set  the  supper-table.  "  Some- 
thing, I  hope,  which  will  bring  sunshine  to  her 
sorry-looking  face." 

He  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  with  a 
white  envelope,  sealed  neatly  with  red  wax, 
and  held  it  up  before  the  eyes  of  the  astonished 
group,  who  were  scarcely  able  to  believe  that 
Lucy  had  got  a  letter  directed  to  herself. 

"'Tis  from  Miss  Willis,  I'll  bet  a  cent!" 
exclaimed  Harry,  as  delighted  as  Lucy  at  the 
very  thought. 

"  Oh !    I   hope   so,"   said  Charley,  hopping 


176  LUCY  LEE. 

about  in  high  glee.  "  I  do  want  to  see  Miss 
Willis." 

" '  Tis  from  her"  said  Lucy,  "  for  I  know  her 
handwriting;  and  then  here  is  "A.  W."  on 
the  wax.  Her  name  is  Abby." 

"Well,  now,"  said  her  father  pleasantly, 
"  open  it,  and  let's  see  what's  inside." 

"I  want  to  read  it  to  myself  first,"  was 
Lucy's  reply;  and  as  soon  as  the  last  thing 
was  on  the  supper-table,  she  ran  away  to  her 
own  chamber  to  enjoy  the  precious  missive, 
every  nerve  of  her  frame  trembling  with  de- 
light. She'  broke  the  seal  and  read  it  from 
beginning  to  end;  then  commenced  and  read 
it  again  with  eyes  full  of  tears.  How  like  her 
beloved  teacher  that  letter  was,  in  every  word 
and  line ;  full  of  love  and  anxious  care  still 
for  the  little  ones  she  had  guided  so  tenderly 
for  a  few  months,  and  left,  never  to  meet  them 
again,  perchance,  in  the  uncertain  journey  of 
life! 

The  account  of  her  journey  interested  Lucy 
very  much,  and  she  was  sure  it  would  interest 


LUCY  LEE.  177 

her  father  and  mother,  and  the  children  too. 
So  she  took  it  down  and  read  it  all  to  them. 
Then  there  was  one  of  Longfellow's  sweetest 
poems,  which  Miss  Willis  had  cut  from  a  paper 
for  her,  and  sent  with  the  request  that  she 
would  write  her  just  how  she  liked  it.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lee  wished  to  hear  the  poem,  and 
Lucy  read  : 

"  The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast, 
When,  through  an  Alpine  village,  passed 
A  youth,  who  bore,  'mid  snow  and  ice, 
A  banner  with  the  strange  device — 

Excelsior  I 

His  brow  was  sad ;  his  eyes  beneath 
Flashed  like  a  falchion  from  its  sheath  5 
And  like  a  silver  clarion  rung 
The  accents  of  that  unknown  tongue-?. 
Excelsior ! 

In  happy  homes,  he  saw  the  light 

Of  household  fires  gleam  warm  and  bright; 

Above,  the  spectral  glaciers  shone, 

And  from  his  lips  escaped  a  groan — 

Excelsior ! 
23 


178  LUCY  LEE. 

1  Try  not  the  pass  1 '  the  old  man  said, 
1  Dark  lowers  the  tempest  overhead ; 
The  roaring  torrent  is  deep  and  wide  I ' 
And  loud  that  clarion  voice  replied — 
Excelsior  I 


4  Beware  the  pine-tree's  withered  branch  I 
Beware  the  awful  avalanche ! ' 
This  was  the  peasant's  last  good  night ; 
A  voice  replied,  far  up  the  height — 

Excelsior ! 

At  break  of  day,  as  heavenward 
The  pious  monks  of  St.  Bernard 
Uttered  the  oft-repeated  prayer, 
A  voice  cried  through  the  startled  air — 
Excelsior  I 

A  traveller,  by  the  faithful  hound, 
Half-buried  in  the  snow  was  found, 
Still  grasping  in  his  hand  of  ice 
That  banner  with  the  strange  device — r 
Excelsior } 

There  in  the  twilight,  cold  and  grey, 
Lifeless,  but  beautiful,  he  lay ; 


LUCT  LEE.  179 

And  from  the  sky  serene,  and  far, 
A  voice  fell,  like  a  falling  star — 

Excelsior ! " 


Her  father  and  mother  listened  attentively 
and  silently  until  Lucy  had  finished  the  beau- 
tiful poem,  and  asked  how  they  liked  it.  Mr. 
Lee  brushed  a  tear  from  his  eye  as  he  said : 
"  The  story  is  very  prettily  told,  but  the  poor 
/youth  had  better  have  given  heed  to  the  words 
of  the  old  man,  who  knew  all  the  paths  and 
passes  better  than  he." 

Her  mother  said :  "  That  sort  of  folks  always 
come  to  some  bad  end.  There  was  no  use  in 
warning  them,  for,  if  they  got  out  of  one  trou- 
ble alive,  they'd  be  sure  to  get  into  another." 

Lucy's  eyes  were  bright  with  enthusiasm  as, 
she  replied:  "I  don't  think  he  came  to  a  bad 
end,  mother !  Excelsior  means  higher ;  and 
the  boy  sang  it  all  the  way  long  until  he  stood, 
upon  the  mountain-top,  though  it  must  have 
been  hard  for  him  sometimes.  Then,  when  he 
saw  nothing  but  the  heayens  and  the  stars 


180  LUCY  LEE.    • 

above  him,  he  wanted  to  go  up  and  finish  his 
song.  I  think  it  is  beautiful  where  the  voice 
fell  back  from  the  sky  like  a  falling  star." 

Her  father  gazed  with  astonishment  on 
Lucy's  face  as  she  spoke.  He  had  never  seen 
her  so  earnest  in  the  expression  of  an  opinion 
before ;  but  he  shook  his  head  and  said  there 
might  be  such  a  thing  as  carrying  a  will  too 
far.  Harry  said  he  liked  the  fellow's  spunk. 
He  knew  before  that  Excelsior  meant  higher,  for 
Miss  Willis  had  told  them  so,  and  that  it  was 
the  motto  of  the  State  of  New  York.  He 
didn't  believe  his  father  could  ask  Miss  Willis 
a  single  thing  she  didn't  know. 

Lucy  was  happy  again  that  night  as  she  lay 
upon  her  pillow,  thinking  of  her  letter,  and  all 
the  kind,  pleasant  words  it  contained.  The 
shadow  that  had  rested  on  her  young  spirit 
was  suddenly  lifted.  The  perseverance  of  the 
Alpine  youth  amid  chilling  discouragements 
seemed  sent  to  inspire  her  with  new  courage 
and  hope.  Lucy  was  not  a  Christian  ;  there- 
fore she  could  not  see  the  light  which  the 


LUCY  LEE.  181 

young  Christian  sees  in  all  times  of  darkness. 
Though  from  early  childhood  she  had  known 
well  the  story  of  the  Cross,  and  had  wept>over 
it  again  and  again,  she  had  never,  like  Bun- 
yan's  pious  pilgrim,  laid  her  burdens  at  its 
foot.  Few  children  had  read  the  Bible  as  much 
as  she,  or  understood  as  well  its  heavenly 
counsels ;  but,  like  many  others,  she  loved  it 
better  for  its  stirring  stories  than  for  the  pre- 
cepts which  would  make  her  wise  unto  salva- 
tion. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  next  morning  was  a  morning  of  spring 
brightness.  The  grass  looked  greener  and  the 
flowers  brighter  for  the  rain.  Lucy  thought 
she  would  like  a  run  in  the  fields,  but  the  baby 
was  not  well,  and  she  felt  it  would  be  use- 
less as  well  as  wrong  to  ask  to  go  before  the 
work  was  done.  When  the  sun  got  up  higher, 
however,  Mrs.  Lee  said  she  believed  the  warm 
out-of-door  air  would  do  little  Hetty  good, 
and  if  Lucy  would  draw  her  out  in  the  wagon, 
she  would  finish  the  morning  chores. 

It  was  a- pleasant  proposition  to  Lucy,  the 
more  so  because  quite  unexpected ;  and  she 
ran  quickly  for  her  sun-bonnet  and  cape.  The 
baby  was  warmly  wrapped,  and  began  to  spring 
and  jump  at  sight  of  the  little  wagon;  and  as 
she  was  drawn  gently  through  the  back  gate 


LUCY  LEE.  183 

into  the  orchard,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
say  which  of  the  sisters  wore  the  brighter  face. 

Lucy  knew  where  there  was  a  warm  sunny 
south  bank,  and  directed  her  steps  thither,  only 
stopping  now  and  then  to  pull  a  dandelion  or  a 
daisy  for  little  Hetty.  When  they  gained  their 
resting-place,  the  child's  lap  was  full  of  shining 
blossoms,  which  she  played  with,  crowed  over, 
and  pulled  in  pieces  with  the  greatest  glee, 
while  Lucy  sat  down  beside  her  on  the  warm 
hillside,  looking  away  to  the  grand  old  moun- 
tains one  minute,  and  down  upon  the  sweet 
blue  violets  at  her  feet  fhe  next.  The  apple 
orchard  was  just  budding  into  blossom,  and 
the  birds  poured  forth  their  joy  in  full  notes 
of  thanksgiving. 

"  Happy  little  singers !  "  Lucy  exclaimed. 
"  How  I  wish  I  could  help  you  ! "  Before  she 
was  aware,  her  lips  were  moving,  and  her 
thoughts  expressing  themselves  in  simple 
rhyme.  The  mortification  that  followed  her 
first  attempt  was  quite  forgotten  as  she  pen- 
cilled the  following  lines : 


184  LUCY  LEE. 

The  violets  are  springing 

Upon  the  hillsides  now, 
And  the  little  birds  are  singing 

On  every  budding  bough ; 
To  them  it  is  a  pleasure 

To  warble  all  day  long, 
And  oh  I  if  I  had  leisure, 

I'd  try  to  sing  a  song. 

I'd  sing  about  the  mountains 

That  stand  up  to  the  skies, 
And  about  the  silvery  fountains 

That  make  sweet  melodies  I 
For  the  roses  in  their  brightness 

A  little  song  I'd  make, 
And  the  lilies  in  their  whiteness 

As  they  lie  upon  the  lake  1 

I'd  sing  of  all 

But  before  Lucy  could  say  of  all  what,  the 
baby  began  to  fret  and  cry.  She  was  tired  of 
her  flowers,  tired  of  the  sunshine,  and  wanted 
to  go  to  sleep.  So,  putting  her  pencil  and 
paper  back  into  her  pocket,  Lucy  began  to 
move  the  little  wagon  gently  backwards  and 
forwards  to  the  time  her  thoughts  were  so 


LUQT  LEE.  185 

softly  beating,  until  Hetty's  murmurings  were 
lost  in  sweet  baby  slumbers. 

"It  won't  do  to  keep  her  out  here  now," 
Lucy  reflected.  "She  will  be  sure  to  take 
cold,  and  I  may  as  well  take  her  back  to  the 
house  and  finish  my  writing  another  time. 
I've  had  a  very  nice  morning  any  way." 

A  little  pleasure  was  a  great  deal  to  Lucy 
Lee,  and  for  several  days  she  went  around  the 
house  as  radiant  as  a  sunbeam,  though  she 
found  no  time  to  study  or  finish  her  second 
composition.  She  thought  a  great  deal,  how- 
ever, and  was  very  hopeful  that  somehow,  in 
spite  of  all  her  discouragements,  she  should 
get  an  education  such  as  she  needed  to  make 
her  happy  and  fit  her  to  be  useful  in  the  world. 
She  knew  how  to  study  by  herself  better  than 
before  she  went  to  school,  and  had  as  many 
lessons  all  marked  out  and  explained  as  she 
could  learn  in  some  months.  If  she  only 
found  leisure  when  the  days  grew  longer,  she 
would  get  along  well. 

At  the  breakfast-table  one  morning  Mr.  Lee 
24 


186  LUCY  LEE. 

told  Harry  and  Charley  he  wished  them  to 
sort  the  potatoes  for  planting  that  day.  For 
every  bushel  he  would  give  them  a  penny. 
They  could  scarcely  wait  to  finish  their  break- 
fast, so  eager  were  they  to  commence  the 
work. 

"That's  the  way  you  spoil  the  children," 
said  Mrs.  Lee,  "hiring  them  to  do  whatever 
they  don't  like.  My  way  is  to  tell  a  child  what 
I  want,  and  see  that  it  is  done." 

"  I  know  it,  mother ;  I  know  your  way ;  but 
I  haven't  travelled  so  far  from  childhood  yet 
as  not  to  remember  how  much  easier  and  plea- 
santer  it  is  to  work  with  the  hope  of  reward 
than  for  fear  of  punishment.  A  penny  goes  a 
great  ways  with  children  to  keep  them  from 
growing  tired  and  getting  discouraged.  And 
it  is  about  the  same  with  grown  folks,  too,  I 
guess.  When  I's  a  young  man,  I  went  down 
to  New  York  once  to  see  what  I  could  see.  It 
was  nothing  but  hurrying  and  driving  there 
from  morning  till  midnight,  just  for  the  hope 
of  gain.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  Men  that  love 


LUCY  LEE.  187 

the  sky  and  earth  and  green  hills  and  moun- 
tains as  well  as  I  do,  may  be,  would  stay  cheer- 
fully in  dusty  streets  and  dark  shops  just  for 
a  penny  more  profit,  just  as  our  boys  will  stay 
all  day  to-day  down  in  the  cellar-hole,  when 
the  sun  shines,  and  the  birds  sing  so  pleasantly 
above." 

Lucy  followed  her  father  when  he  went  out 
to  yoke  his  team  for  ploughing.  "  May  I 
help  the  boys  when  I  get  my  dishes  washed  ?  " 
she  inquired. 

"  What  for,  child ;  don't  you  have  women's 
work  enough  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  want  some  money  to  get  me  a  bottle  of 
ink,"  she  said  hesitatingly.     "  The  ink  mother 
made  last  winter  got  frozen,  and  will  not  write . 
well.     I  want  some  nice  and  black  before  I 
write  to  Miss  "Willis." 

"  If  mother  can  spare  you,  well  and  good. 
If  not,  never  mind  it,  and  I  will  get  you  the 
ink  when  I  go  to  town." 

Lucy  hastened  to  wash  her  dishes,  and  make 
her  brothers,  bed  and  her  own,  before  she 


188  LUCY  LEE. 

asked  her  mother.  Mrs.  Lee  said  she  might 
go  until  it  was  time  to  be  getting  dinner ;  she 
should  need  her  then.  With  a  light  heart  she 
tied  on  her  hood  and  pinned  a  warm  blanket 
round  her  shoulders,  as  it  was  damp  in  the 
cellar  always.  Then  she  ran  quickly  to  join 
Harry  and  Charley  in  their  work.  They  had 
two  piles  sorted  already  when  Lucy  got  there, 
to  which  they  called  her  attention. 

"  His  are  the  silver-skins,  and  mine  are 
blue-noses,"  said  Charley.  "  But  what  have 
you  come  for,  Lucy  ?  There  ain't  a  potato 
more  here  than  we  can  do  ourselves ;  we  are 
going  to  put  our  cents  together  and  get  an 
india-rubber  ball,  if  we  get  enough." 

"  I  want  some  money,  too,"  said  Lucy.  "  I 
haven't  had  a  cent  since  I  sold  my  hazel-nuts 
last  fall,  and  we  got  our  school-books." 

"What  do  girls  want  money  for?  They 
don't  play  ball." 

"I  know  it;  but  I  want  some  ink,  I  want 
it  dreadfully.  I  can't  write  to  Miss  Willis 
with  that  poor  old  frozen  stuff.  It  sticks 


LUCY  LEE.  189 

up  the  steel  pens  so  they  will  not  make  a 
mark." 

"Let  father  have  it,  then,  for  his  account- 
book.  He  always  uses  a  goose-quill,  you 
know,"  said  Harry.  "I  don't  blame  you  for 
wanting  some  good  ink  to  write  to  Miss  Willis 
with.  You  may  sort  the  marinoes,  Lucy, 
because  they  are  largest  and  fill  up  fastest; 
Charley  and  I  were  saving  them  for  the 
last." 

Lucy  would  not  take  the  advantage  of  her 
brothers'  generosity,  but  insisted  they  would 
work  together  on  the  smaller  ones  first,  then 
on  the  larger  ones. 

"  When  you  do  write  to  Miss  Willis,"  said 
Harry,  "tell  her  I've  read  the  'Robinson 
Crusoe '  she  gave  me  three  times  through,  and 
like  it  first-rate." 

"  And  that  I've  painted  every  soldier  in  my 
picture-book  with  cranberries  and  indigo  till 
they  look  as  fine  as  real  soldiers,  such  as  we 
see  when  we  go  to  training,"  said  Charley. 
"  I  wish  she'd  come  back  here !  " 


190  LUCY  LEE. 

"I'll  write  her  that,  too,"  replied  Lucy; 
"  and  that  we  all  wish  so." 

Talking  first  about  Miss  Willis  and  the 
school,  then  about  other  things,  the  morning 
passed  away  very  quickly  and  pleasantly, 
though  they  were  handling  potatoes  in  a  damp, 
shady  cellar.  The  spirit  with  which  children 
labor  has  often  more  to  do  with  its  ease  or 
heaviness  than  the  labor  itself. 

"  We  shall  earn  about  five  cents  apiece  to- 
day, I  guess,"  said  Harry,  as  he  emptied  down 
another  bushel  measure. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  sha'n't,"  said  Lucy.  "  I  expect 
every  minute  to  hear  mother  call  me  to  help 
get  dinner." 

"  We'll  pick  over  for  you,  if  she  does,"  said 
Charley.  "  It's  worth  as  much  to  work  in  the 
house  as  to  sort  potatoes  any  hour." 

The  expected  call  was  soon  heard,  and  for 
the  next  hour  Lucy  was  as  busy  as  she  could 
be  in  the  kitchen.  The  boys  both  petitioned 
to  have  her  help  again  in  the  afternoon ;  so  as 
soon  as  the  after-dinner  work  was  done  she 


LUCY  LEE.  191 

was  with  them  again  in  the  cellar,  where  they 
amused  themselves  telling  stories  and  asking 
puzzling  questions  until  their  work  was  done. 
The  boys  received  six  cents  each  at  evening, 
and  Lucy  her  bottle  of  ink,  her  father  finding 
an  opportunity  to  send  for  it  that  very  after- 
noon. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WHAT  leisure  Lucy  could  find  for  the  next 
few  days  was  spent  upon  her  letter.  She  wrote 
a  good  many  things  in  the  first  place  which 
she  did  not  like  afterwards,  and  so  two  or  three 
letters  were  written  before  she  was  satisfied. 
Miss  Willis  urged  her  to  say  whatever  she 
liked  without  reserve,  but,  like  many  others, 
Lucy  found  it  very  difficult  to  express  what 
she  most  wished.  It  was  very  easy  to  write 
about  what  had  taken  place  in  the  neighbor- 
hood since  she  left,  and  to  pen  the  messages 
which  one  and  another  had  sent ;  but  when  she 
came  to  her  own  feelings  and  thoughts,  which 
her  friend  asked  her  to  speak  of  freely,  it  was 
fur  more  difficult  than  she  had  foreseen.  She 
thought  she  would  tell  her  about  her  first  com- 
position, and  how  mortified  she  had  felt  at  her 


LUCY  LEE.  193 

mother's  criticism ;  then  it  did  not  seem  quite 
right  to  mention,  even  though  true,  her  mo- 
ther's want  of  interest  and  sympathy  in  her 
efforts.  She  decided  to  say  only  that  she  had 
made  two  attempts  to  write  something  in  verse ; 
the  first  was  a  very  lame  affair,  and  the  second, 
though  a  little  better,  was  not  finished,  because, 
though  she  knew  well  enough  what  she  was 
going  to  say,  she  could  not  say  it,  and  have  it 
sound  like  what  she  had  written  in  the  first 
place. 

Had  her  mother  been  like  Miss  Willis,  Lucy 
would  have  gone  to  her,  and  asked  to  be  ad- 
vised on  two  or  three  points ;  but  she  was  get- 
ting more  and  more  reserved  every  day,  more 
reluctant  even  to  communicate  her  thoughts 
and  feelings  to  her  natural  friend  and  guide 
than  to  a  stranger.  A  painful  consciousness  of 
not  being  understood  has  sealed  many  a  child's 
heart  besides  Lucy  Lee's,  and  left  the  warm  cur- 
rents which  would  gush  forth  in  the  sunshine 
of  love  to  chill  and  freeze  in  hidden  depths. 

The  letter  was  sealed  at  last,  and  sent ;  and 

25 


194  LUCY  LEE. 

as  the  days  were  now  getting  longer  and  warm- 
er, Lucy  tried  to  find  a  little  time  to  study. 
She  was  up  very  early  in  the  morning,  and 
never  lost  a  moment.  Some  mornings  she  had 
time  to  read  over  a  page  or  two  of  history  be- 
fore her  mother  called  her  to  dress  the  children 
and  help  about  breakfast.  Then  she  would 
think  it  over  and  over  as  she  went  about  her 
work,  until  she  knew  it  perfectly.  Other 
mornings  she  would  have  time  only  for  a  single 
paragraph  like  the  following :  "  The  first  per- 
manent English  settlement  in  America  was 
made  at  Jamestown,  Virginia,  in  1607."  And 
this  was  repeated  softly  until  it  became  as  fa- 
miliar as  her  own  name  and  age.  Whenever 
she  went  out  with  the  baby,  the  book  was  sure 
to  have  a  hiding-place  in  a  corner  of  the  little 
wagon,  and  in  that  way  some  new  historic  fact 
was  often  added  to  her  small  stock  of  learning. 
Few  children  have  either  as  much  fondness  for 
knowledge,  or  as  much  perseverance  in  acquir- 
ing it  under  adverse  circumstances,  as  Lucy 
had ;  and  if  she  felt  sometimes  like  giving  up 


LUCY  LEE.  195 

the  pursuit  in  despair,  it  was  only  days  when 
she  felt  too  sick  and  weary  to  make  any  exer- 
tion beyond  those  absolutely  required  of  her. 
She  had  many  such  days  before  the  summer 
was  over,  but  with  the  first  hour  of  strength 
came  back  the  native  courage  and  resolve. 

"  I  must,  and  caw,  and  will  have  an  education," 
she  said  one  day  to  her  mother,  in  a  petulant 
tone,  when  chided,  as  she  often  was,  for  taking 
her  book  instead  of  her  knitting-work  while 
tending  the  baby.  "  My  hands  are  yours,  and 
you  manage  in  one  way  or  another  to  keep 
them  pretty  well  filled;  but  my  head  is  my 
own,  and  you  cannot  control  it." 

Lucy  had  never  spoken  thus  to  her  mother 
before.  Her  father,  who  chanced  to  overhear 
the  words,  opened  not  his  mouth  to  reprove  or 
approve.  But  after  she  had  gone  to  her  bed 
that  night,  unhappy  as  she  could  be,  Mr.  Lee 
said  to  his  wife,  "  You  are  spoiling  that  child's 
disposition  by  constant  fault-finding  and  oppo- 
sition. You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  over 
and  above  her  books  she  does  more  work  than 


196  LUCY  LEE. 

any  other  little  girl  in  the  neighborhood.  I 
can't  bear  to  see  her  young  face  look  so  care- 
worn ;  and  if  you  don't  let  her  have  her  own 
way  morej  I  will  send  her  away  from  home  to 
school,  if  I  have  to  sell  my  last  cow  for  it." 

The  threat  did  not,  however,  do  much  to 
lighten  Lucy's  daily  tasks.  With  her  mother's 
hands  so  full,  how  could  she  find  time  for 
study?  She  did  uot  expect  much,  but  her 
heart  pleaded  most  earnestly  for  more  tender 
sympathy.  It  was  the  want  of  that  which 
clouded  her  young  face,  and  often  wet  her  pil- 
low with  bitter  tears.  It  was  the  want  of 
what  every  parent,  however  poor  in  worldly 
goods,  owes  a  child  even  before  food  or 
raiment. 

Only  in  the  abstract  had  religion  a  place  in 
the  home  of  Lucy  Lee.  Her  parents  believed 
in  the  Bible,  and  taught  their  children  it  was 
the  word  of  God.  But  its  practical  influence 
upon  their  hearts  and  lives  was  not  manifest. 
The  candle  of  the  Lord  shone  not  upon  them 
as  upon  the  tabernacle  of  the  righteous.  They 


LUCY  LEE.  197 

had  no  altar  for  morning  or  evening  sacrifice. 
Whenever  there  was  public  worship  in  the 
village,  they  attended,  and  took  their  little  ones 
to  the  Sabbath-school;  but  latterly  they  had 
been  deprived  of  such  means  of  grace.  Cold- 
ness and  indifference  to  spiritual  things  seemed 
to  have  settled  down  on  the  hearts  of  profess- 
ing Christians  through  all  the  region.  They 
had  had  no  minister  for  some  time,  and  the 
parish  was  too  small  and  poor  to  make  it  an 
object  for  an  aspiring  man  to  abide  there. 

Happily,  among  the  teachers  of  Christ  are 
some  who  esteem  souls  above  earthly  gain,  who 
are  willing  to  put  on  the  likeness  and  make  self- 
denial  for  the  cause  of  their  Heavenly  Master. 
One  of  these  came  about  this  time  to  the  little 
village  among  the  mountains.  He  had  hearc^ 
of  the  destitution  of  gospel  privileges  there, 
and  how  the  flock,  without  a  leader  and  guide, 
was  getting  astray.  With  a  heart  warm  with 
love,  he  said :  "  Let  me  cast  in  my  lot  among 
you.  1  am  not  destitute ;  those  who  are,  and 
have  families  to  support,  must  make  stipula- 


198  LUCY  LEE. 

tions  to  live.  Your  little  ones  need  a  teacher; 
let  me  tell  them  of  the  Good  Shepherd  who 
leadeth  into  '  green  pastures '  and  beside  '  still 
waters.' " 

How  the  hearts  of  that  neglected  people 
went  forth  to  the  stranger  none  can  think  who 
have  never  known  similar  need  and  similar 
unselfishness.  Mr.  Robbins  was  a  man  whose 
religion  was  fashioned  on  the  precepts  of  the 
New  Testament,  whose  whole  nature  was 
warmed  and  influenced  thereby.  In  the  sim- 
plicity of  his  life  and  character,  in  his  devotion 
to  his  Heavenly  Father's  work,  and  his  love  to 
his  fellow-immortals,  he  was  not  an  unworthy 
follower  of  Him  who  was  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart,  and  who  all  His  life  long  went  about 
doing  good.  The  doors  of  the  sanctuary  were 
again  thrown  open  on  the  Sabbath,  meetings 
for  conference  and  prayer  were  held  in  different 
sections  of  the  parish,  and  the  Sabbath-school 
was  once  more  thronged  with  happy  children. 
To  train  immortal  souls  for  another  and 
a  higher  life  was  the  work  for  which  the 


LUCY  LEE. 


199 


young  pastor  was  enlisted,  and  he  set  himself 
to  the  work  like  a  faithful  soldier  of  the 
Cross. 


CHAPTER  X. 

LOVE  begets  love.  There  was  not  a  heart  in 
the  parish  that  was  not  moved  by  the  faithful, 
earnest  exhortations  of  the  new  minister.  He 
did  not  begin  his  work  by  reproaching  the 
people  for  their  backslidings  and  shortcomings 
in  duty ;  but  he  called  on  the  weak  and  wander- 
ing to  return,  like  the  prodigal  of  old,  to  the 
fulness  of  their  Father's  house.  The  feast 
was  waiting  for  them  there.  The  best  robe  and 
the  gold  ring  were  always  ready  for  the  erring 
child.  God's  servants  were  sent  with  the  invita- 
tion :  "  Come !  for  all  things  are  now  ready." 
For  the  weary  and  heavy  laden,  for  the  sick 
and  sorrowing,  for  the  poor,  the  lame,  and  the 
blind,  for  the  aged  whose  feet  were  treading 
the  dim  evening- way  of  life,  and  for  the  young 
in  their  freshness  and  vigor,  the  gospel  invita- 


LUCY  LEE.  201 

tion  was  sent.  "Whoever  would,  might  come. 
"Eat,  0  friends!  drink  abundantly,  O  be- 
loved ! "  was  the  Master's  welcome  to  the  feast 
He  had  spread. 

Under  sucli  preaching  the  church  was  first 
aroused.  The  language  of  its  members  was : 
"  All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray."  Many 
who  had  never  before  felt  any  personal  interest 
in  the  subject  began  to  inquire  whether  the 
gospel  call  was  not  to  them  also.  For  many 
and  many  a  year  no  such  feeling  had  been 
awakened  in  that  community,  and  the  faithful 
minister  toiled  on,  humbly  and  meekly  striving 
to  sow  the  good  seed.  He  visited  from  house 
to  house,  and  learned  the  spiritual  wants  of 
many  who  had  never  made  known  such  a  want 
before.  He  conversed  so  simply  and  affection- 
ately, none  felt  as  if  making  known  their 
thoughts  and  feelings  to  a  stranger.  Even  the 
children  were  unawed  at  his  presence,  and 
loved  to  listen  to  his  words. 

"  I  tell  you,  Lucy,  I  like  him  first-rate !  " 

Harry  Lee  said  to  his  sister,  as  they  were  walk- 
26 


202  LUCY  LEE. 

ing  from  church  one  Sabbath  afternoon.  "  He 
preaches  so  children  can  understand  him,  and 
not  like  old  Mr.  Martin,  whose  sermons  sound 
to  me  just  like  a  chapter  of  Komans." 

Mr.  Bobbins  had  been  preaching  from  the 
text :  "  He  shall  feed  His  flock  like  a  shepherd ; 
He  shall  gather  the  lambs  with  His  arm,  and 
carry  them  in  His  bosom,  and  shall  gently  lead 
those  that  are  with  young." 

"  I  like  him,  too,"  replied  Lucy.  "  And  I 
feel  as  though  I  should  like  to  be  carried  in  the 
Saviour's  arms.  I  am  so  tired  and  unhappy, 
Harry !  "  Lucy  burst  into  tears  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  say,"  said  Harry,  "  if  you  are  tired,  let's 
sit  down  on  that  rock  there,  and  wait  till  father 
and  mother  get  round  with  the  wagon.  You 
can  ride  the  rest  of  the  way." 

Lucy  did  not  wish  to  ride.  She  had  walked 
from  choice,  and  she  and  her  brother  had  taken 
a  foot-path  across  the  fields,  which  shortened 
the  first  part  of  the  way  a  good  deal.  She  had 
not  been  feeling  well  for  some  days,  and  every 
exertion  fatigued  her.  Little  things  fretted 


LUCY  LEE.  203 

her  as  they  had  never  done  before.  Even  her 
father  said  to  her  the  day  before,  when  she 
spoke  hastily  to  one  of  the  children,  "I  am 
afraid  you  are  really  growing  cross,  Lucy ! " 

"  Tired  and  unhappy  !  "  That  was  her  feel- 
ing as  nearly  as  she  could  express  it.  But  that 
was  not  all.  Though  scarcely  more  than  ten 
years  old,  Lucy  had  thought  and  felt  a  great 
deal.  For  a  long  time  she  had  been  sensible 
of  an  earnest  desire  for  something  she  did  not 
possess.  Sometimes  it  was  only  pleasant  sym- 
pathy ;  sometimes  knowledge.  Now  it  was 
something  beyond  and  above  either  of  these — 
something  on  which  an  immortal  nature  might 
feed  and  rest.  Her  mind  was  awakened  to  a 
sense  of  her  lost  estate  by  nature,  and  of  her 
need  of  recovering  grace.  The  plan  of  salva- 
tion had  been  clearly  set  forth  by  the  minister 
that  morning;  and  in  the  afternoon  the  be- 
liever's comfort  and  safety  were  dwelt  upon. 

Lucy  could  no  longer  say  to  her  conscience 
as  she  had  sometimes  said  before :  "I  want  to 
be  a  Christian,  but  don't  know  how ;"  for  the 


204  LUCY  LEE. 

way  had  been  made  plain  to  her  that  day 
through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  As  she  arid 
Harry  walked  slowly  homewards,  she  felt  the 
necessity  of  an  entire  consecration  of  heart  and 
life.  "I  will  give  myself  to  the  Saviour  this 
very  night !  "  was  her  secret  resolve.  "  I  can 
and  must  be  a  Christian  !  " 

When  supper  was  over,  she  went  to  her 
chamber  and  made  fast  the  door.  Kneeling 
down  by  her  low  bedside,  she  said  softly: 
"  Dear  Saviour,  I  am  a  poor,  helpless,  sin-sick 
child,  and  I  come  to  give  myself  to  Thee. 
Leave  me  not  to  perish.  I  cannot  go  any 
longer  by  myself;  take  me  in  Thy  strong  arms, 
and  carry  me  safely  all  the  way  through  life." 
Those  were  all  the  words  her  lips  uttered,  but 
her  repentant  spirit  told  all  its  wants  and  griefs 
in  such  silent  language  as  the  Father  of  Spirits 
understands  and  heeds.  A  few  days  before 
Lucy  had  begun  to  read  the  New  Testament  in 
course.  She  had  got  as  far  as  the  eleventh  chap- 
ter of  Matthew,  to  which  she  now  opened  and 
read.  The  last  verses  of  the  chapter  were  very 


LUCY  LEE.  205 

sweet :  "  At  that  time  Jesus  answered  and  said, 
I  thank  Thee,  O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and 
earth,  because  Thou  hast  hid  these  things  from 
the  wise  and  prudent^  and  hast  revealed  them 
unto  babes.  Even  so,  Father ;  for  so  it  seemed 
good  in  Thy  sight.  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest.  Take  My  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of 
Me ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart :  and 
ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls.  For  My 
yoke  is  easy,  and  My  burden  is  light." 

"  I  think,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  as  I  gro*w  to 
be  a  Christian  I  shall  understand  things  better. 
Some  things  I  will  ask  Miss  Willis  when  I 
write  to  her  again.  She  is  a  Christian  ;  I  al- 
ways knew  dear  Miss  Willis  was  a  Christian." 


CHAPTER  XL 

THAT  week  Mr.  Bobbins  made  his  second 
call  at  Mr.  Lee's.  It  was  Thursday.  He  had 
intended  to  call  earlier  in  the  week,  but  was 
sent  for  to  attend  a  funeral  at  some  distance, 
and  only  returned  the  day  before.  He  had 
noticed  Lucy's  serious  face,  both  in  church  and 
at  Sabbath-school,  and  how  attentively  she  lis- 
tened to  his  instructions.  He  knew  her  from 
the  description  some  one  had  given  him,  and 
wished  to  tell  her  he  had  a  message  from  one 
of  her  friends  for  her ;  but  she  was  not  at  home 
when  he  called  first,  and  so  the  message  was 
reserved  for  a  second  visit. 

The  gig  of  the  village  physician  stood  at  the 
gate  of  the  cottage  when  he  arrived.  Mr.  Rob- 
bins  knocked  two  or  three  times  before  any 
person  came  to  the  door.  Mrs.  Lee  came  at 


LUCY  LEE.  207 

last,  and  her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping.  He 
inquired  if  they  were  ill  there,  and  was  told 
that  Lucy,  the  eldest  child,  was  like  to  die. 

In  answer  to  his  inquiries,  the  mother 
said  she  had  been  a  little  complaining  for 
a  number  of  days,  though  no  one  dreamed 
of  her  being  seriously  ill.  She  walked  from 
church  Sunday,  was  worse  on  Monday,  and 
Tuesday  broke  down  entirely.  Since  Tues- 
day she  had  not  lifted  her  head,  or  scarcely 
spoken  a  word  of  sense,  though  she  had 
talked  and  moaned  continually. 

Mr.  Bobbins  went  in.  Doctor  King  sat  by 
the  bedside,  holding  his  patient's  pulse,  and 
watching  her  flushed,  fevered  countenance. 
Mr.  Lee  was  near,  with  the  youngest  child 
in  his  arms,  and  looked  very  much  troubled. 

"Lucy,"  he  said,  after  rising  and  greeting 
the  welcome  pastor — "  Lucy,  Mr.  Eobbins  has 
called  to  see  us.  Do  you  not  recognise  him  ?  " 

Lucy  opened  her  eyes  and  said :  "  I  am 
very  tired  to-day !  "  then  closed  them  again 
and  moaned  as  before. 


208  LUCY  LEE. 

"  That's  the  way  with  her  all  the  time 
now,"  her  mother  said.  "So  it  was  for  a 
day  or  two  before  she  was  taken  down,  and 
I  drove  her  round  just  the  same  as  though 
she.'d  been  well  and  strong,"  and  her  tears 
burst  forth  afresh. 

u  There's  no  doubt  the  child  is  overdone  in 
mind  and  body  both,"  the  physician  said  blunt- 
ly. "But  this  is  the  time  for  remedies,  and 
not  reproaches.  Lucy,  my  child,"  and  the 
doctor  raised  her  on  his  strong  arm,  and  put  a 
cup  to  her  lips,  "I  want  you  should  take  this." 

"  I  want  to  write  to  Miss  Willis,  and  ask  her 
to  explain  some  things  to  me,"  she  said,  gaz- 
ing vacantly  around.  "  Can  I  to-day  ?  " 

"  Take  the  drink,  and  then  we'll  see  how  you 
feel.  You  shall  write  as  soon  as  you  are 
able,"  the  doctor  said  soothingly. 

She  drank  the  medicine,  and  fixed  her  eyes 
on  Mr.  Bobbins  with  a  look  of  intelligent 
recognition,  then  smiled  faintly  and  held  out 
her  hand. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  find  you  so  ill,"  he  said, 


LUCY  LEE.  .          209 

taking  her  hand,  and  speaking  in  the  gentlest 
tone.  "  But  I  hope  you  will  soon  be  better." 

"I  want  to  be  a  Christian,"  she  said,  "but  I 
am  so  tired  now,  I  cannot  think  much.  Do 
you  think  I  ever  shall  learn  anything  ?  " 

"  You  know  more  than  a  great  many  grown 
folks  now,  Lucy,"  the  doctor  said ;  "  and  if 
you'll  only  keep  quiet,  and  take  my  medicines, 
we'll  have  you  able  to  do  what  you  like  in  a 
few  days." 

After  giving  the  most  explicit  directions 
about  her  medicines,  and  promising  to  be  there 
again  before  night,  Doctor  King  rose  to  leave. 

Mr.  Bobbins  rose  also,  and  speaking  a  word 
of  hope  to  the  sorrowing  parents,  exhorting 
them  to  look  to  God  in  this  and  every  trial, 
followed  the  physician  from  the  door.  At  the 
gate  he  inquired  the  doctor's  opinion  of  the 
case. 

"I  don't  know  which  way  'twill  go,  cer- 
tainly," he  replied.  "  I  am  afraid  of  the  brain. 
There  is  too  much  action  there  altogether. 

She's  always  been  a  wonderful  child,  though 
27 


210  LUCY  LEE. 

v> 
folks  ain't  apt  to  see   such   things  at  home. 

But,"  he  added,  energetically  seizing  his  bridle- 
rein,  "  if  there's  skill  enough  in  me,  I  won't 
lose  Lucy  Lee.  I  have  a  call  that  must  be 
made  this  afternoon,  then  I  am  coming  back  to 
stick  to  her  like  a  friend.  Her  mother  is 
a  capital  nurse  as  a  general  thing,  but  she  is 
half-frightened  out  of  her  wits  now,  and  I 
don't  wonder  at  it." 

Thus  suddenly  was  Lucy  prostrated  on  a  bed 
of  sickness,  perhaps  of  death.  She  had  her 
reason  only  at  irregular  periods,  and  not  suffi- 
ciently at  any  time  to  realize  the  danger  of  her 
situation.  Hour  after  hour  did  her  parents 
bend  their  ears  to  listen  to  her  incoherent 
words,  promising  themselves  and  their  God,  if 
their  child  might  only  be  raised  up  from  this 
sickness,  they  would  be  more  careful  of  her 
strength  and  more  tender  of  her  feelings.  How 
many  such  painful  reflections  crowd  around 
the  sick-beds  of  those  we  love,  often  too  late  to 
test  the  sincerity  of  the  promises  we  make  for 
the  time  to  come ! 


LUCY  LEE.  211 

Doctor  King  could  not  have  bestowed  a  ten- 
derer care  upon  an  own  child  than  he  gave  to 
little  Lucy  Lee.  Day  after  day,  and  night 
after  night,  he  might  have  been  found  at  the 
cottage,  scarcely  leaving  her  bedside  to  eat  or 
sleep.  The  house  was  thronged  with  neigh- 
bors ;  but  after  Thursday  no  person  except 
the  immediate  watcher  was  allowed  to  enter 
the  sick-room,  the  physician  insisting  that  her 
life  depended  on  the  most  absolute  quiet. 

No  one  came  oftener  to  inquire  for  Lucy 
than  Mr.  Bobbins ;  and  whenever  the  doctor's 
gig  was  seen  at  his  own  door,  he  was  usually 
the  first  to  ask  after  the  suffering  child.  "  I 
tell  you,  sir,"  said  the  physician  to  him  one 
day,  "she  is  a  most  remarkable  little  thing. 
Yesterday  she  gave  me  the  history  of  the 
United  States  in  a  nutshell,  and  to-day  she 
talks  about  experimental  religion  like  an  old 
Doctor  of  Divinity.  But  she  grows  weaker 
and  weaker  every  day,  and  whether  there'll  be 
anything  left  of  her  when  the  fever  is  run  out, 
I  can't  say." 


212  LUCY  LEE. 

Prayers  were  offered  in  the  Sabbath-school 
for  one  of  their  number  very  near  to  death, 
and  many  of  the  children  wept  to  think  of  dear 
Lucy  Lee,  who  was  with  them  so  lately  study- 
ing the  word  of  God.  Many  parents,  too,  forgot 
their  own  trifling  cares  in  sympathy  with  the 
afflicted  ones,  and  heartfelt  petitions  were 
offered  to  the  Throne  of  Grace  that  God  in  his 
infinite  compassion  would  restore  the  health  of 
the  beloved  child. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AFTER  two  weeks  of  most  extreme  suffering, 
Lucy  lived,  though  too  weak  to  raise  a  finger 
or  speak  even  her  mother's  name.  "  If  thev 
could  keep  her  from*  sinking  now,  she  might 
recover,"  the  kind  physician  told  her  parents ; 
"  but  that  more  vigilant  care  was -requisite  than 
ever,  as  she  had  her  reason  perfectly,  and  the 
least  emotion  might  overpower  her  and  prove 
fatal." 

Never  was  an  invalid  more  tenderly  nursed 
through  long  warm  days  and  nights  than  she. 
She  realized  it  all,  and  though  she  had  no 
words  to  express  her  feelings,  grateful  tears 
often  flowed  down  her  pale,  thin  cheeks.  Her 
eyes  spoke  in  silent  affection  to  her  father, 
mother,  and  good  Doctor  King  whenever  they 
served  her  in  any  way,  and  sweet  smiles  re- 


214  LUCY  LEE. 

paid  them  for  every  effort.  It  was  some  time 
before  she  could  speak  except  in  monosyllables ; 
but  the  thought  that  she  was  getting  better,  and 
might  soon  be  well  again,  swelled  every  heart 
with  thanksgiving.  Harry  and  Charley,  who 
had  been  very  silent  and  sad  since  Lucy's  ill- 
ness, were  as  happy  as  they  could  be  in  the 
prospect  of  her  recovery,  and  did  everything 
they  could  to  testify  their  joy  and  to  assist  their 
mother,  who  had  grown  pale  with  care  and 
anxiety.  The  two  little  girls  were  taken  with 
them  to  the  field  every  morning,  and  left  to 
amuse  themselves  in  the  shade,  while  they 
hoed  corn  and  potatoes  like  young  heroes. 
Never  before  had  the  family  realized  the  full 
strength  of  their  attachment  for  one  another ! 
It  is  often  thus ;  for  not  until  some  link  of  the 
household  chain  is  broken,  or  seems  ready  to 
break,  is  the  full  strength  of  the  familiar  bond 
even  conjectured.  It  is  grief  and  sorrow,  not 
prosperity  and  joy,  which  unite  hearts  most 
firmly. 

One  day  when  Lucy  was  a  good  deal  better, 


LUCY  LEE.  215 

and  able  to  sit  pillowed  up  in  bed  and  talk  a 
little,  Mr.  Lee  brought  the  old  family  Bible  and 
sat  down  to  read.  It  was  Sunday,  and  Harry 
and  Charley  had  gone  to  meeting  the  first  time 
since  her  illness.  Lucy  had  thought  of  them, 
and  thought  of  the  Sabbath-school  many  times 
that  day,  and  wondered  whether  she  would 
ever  be  strong  enough  to  go  there  again.  She 
had  not  forgotten  the  last  Sunday  she  was 
there,  nor  what  feelings  had  urged  her  on  her 
return  to  give  herself  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Never  had  she  asked  herself  whether  her  offer- 
ing had  been  accepted,  for  she  had  not  once 
doubted  it.  His  own  words,  "Whosoever 
cometh  to  Me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out,"  were 
implicitly  believed.  A  child's  faith  is  a  happy, 
blessed  surety.  Not  until  the  human  heart 
has  grown  old  and  cold  in  error  and  false  ways 
does  it  learn  the  deep  darkness  of  doubt. 

"  I  wish  you  would  read  to  me  a  little,  if 
you  please,  father,"  Lucy  said,  as  she  watched 
him  intent  on  the  sacred  book.  "  I  think  it  is 
a  long  time  since  I  have  heard  any  reading." 


216  LUCY  LEE. 

"•Four  weeks  to-day,  my  child,  since  you 
went  out  to  meeting  and  heard  lessons  from 
the  Bible.  You  have  passed  through  a  great 
deal  since  then,  Lucy." 

"That  was  the  day  I  gave  myself  to  the 
Saviour  to  be  a  Christian,  father.  I  did  not 
think  it  was  quite  so  long  ago." 

Mr.  Lee  bowed  his  head  on  his  hands  and 
wept  at  Lucy's  words.  Her  mother  was  much 
moved  also  to  hear  her  child,  looking  still  as 
if  on  the  borders  of  the  grave,  speak  so  frank- 
ly of  her  consecration  to  God.  Her  father 
drew  his  chair  nearer  to  the  bed,  and  said  in  a 
broken  voice,  "  If  you  are  a  Christian,  Lucy, 
you  will  have  to  teach  me ;  for  I  have 
promised,  with  God's  help,  to  become  a  Chris- 
tian too." 

"  I  think  it  is  very  easy  when  one  has  fully 
»  made  up  their  mind,"  she  replied  simply. 
"  The  last  chapter  I  read  in  my  Testament  was 
the  eleventh  chapter  of  Matthew.  I  thought 
of  it  a  good  deal  that  night  after  I  went  to  bed 
so  tired,  and  my  head  feeling  so  badly,  and 


LUCY  LEE.  217 

kept  repeating  the  last  verses  to  myself.  I 
think  they  are  beautiful." 

Mr.  Lee  turned  to  it,  and  read  the 
whole  chapter  aloud.  "My  yoke  is  easy, 
and  My  burden  is  light,"  he  repeated  as 
he  closed  the  book.  Then  he  said  solemn- 
ly :  "  Mother,  you  and  I  had  more  need  to 
learn  of  Him  who  is  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart  than  our  child;  let  us  take  His  yoke 
upon  us,  and  begin  here  together  the  Chris- 
tian life." 

Beside  Lucy's  bed  they  knelt  down  and 
pledged  themselves  to  "  walk  in  newness  of 
life  "  the  remainder  of  their  earthly  pilgrimage. 
Thanksgiving  for  the  Lord's  goodness  in  pre- 
serving the  life  of  their  child  mingled  freely 
in  the  prayer  of  consecration.  It  was  a  heart- 
melting  season  to  them  all.  Tears  ran  like 
rain  down  Lucy's  thin  cheeks,  but  they  were 
tears  of  joy  and  gladness. 

"  We  cannot  help  being  happy  now,"  she 
said,  when  her  mother  bent  over  her  to  wipe 

the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  bid  her  keep  quiet 
28 


218  LUC7  LEE. 

and  not  get  over- tired.  "I  know  we  shall  be 
a  happy  family  hereafter,"  and  mother  and 
daughter  exchanged  kisses  of  affection. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MR.  BOBBINS  called  at  the  cottage  again  on 
Monday.  He  had  been  at  the  door  a  number 
of  times,  sometimes  bringing  a  little  gift  of 
oranges  or  apples  for  Lucy,  but  had  never  en- 
tered since  that  first  week  of  her  illness.  Now 
he  brought  a  basket  of  early  strawberries,  for 
which  he  had  sent  to  the  city  with  the  doctor's 
assurance  that  they  would  not  hurt  her.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lee  felt  very  grateful  to  him  for  his 
interest  and  kindness. 

Lucy  had  no  recollection  whatever  of  his 
first  visit  to  her  sick-bed ;  no  recollection  of 
anything,  indeed,  which  happened  during  the 
two  first  weeks  of  her  illness.  But  she  was 
very  glad  to  see  him  now,  and  answered  all  the 
questions  he  asked  respecting  her  thoughts  and 
feelings,  with  a  modesty  and  intelligence  very 


220  LUCY  LEE. 

pleasant  to  hear.  Her  simple  story,  how  she 
carried  all  her  pain  and  weariness  of  heart  with 
her  to  the  Saviour,  never  doubting  His  faith- 
ful promise  to  give  her  rest,  affected  him  much. 

"  Did  you  think  of  that  sweet  promise  to  the 
young,  Lucy,  '  I  love  them  that  love  Me,  and 
those  who  seek  Me  early  shall  find  Me  ? '  "  the 
minister  asked. 

"  No,  sir ;  I  did  not  seek  Him.  I  only  gave 
myself  to  Him,  I  think,  when  He  came  to  me 
in  my  weakness  and  sadness." 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  satisfactory 
than  this  unaffected  tale  of  experience ;  and 
when  Mr.  Bobbins  asked  her  if  she  had  any 
doubt  of  Christ's  acceptance  of  her,  she  looked 
up  in  surprise  and  said,  "  Were  His  promises 
ever  known  to  fail  ?  " 

"  No,  God  be  thanked,  never !  "  was  the 
fervent  rejoinder.  "  Not  one  of  all  His  precious 
promises  !  Cling  to  them  still,  Lucy,  and  you 
will  always  walk  in  the  light  of  the  Sun  of 
Bighteousness.  All  the  promises  of  God  are 
'  yea  and  amen '  for  ever." 


LUCY  LEE.  221 

Mr.  Lee  came  in  from  his  work  while  the 
pastor  was  thus  speaking.  In  the  fulness  of 
his  heart  he  said :  "  The  Lord  hath  done  won- 
derful things  for  us  here,  whereof  we  are  glad." 
It  was  the  first  intimation  Mr.  Bobbins  had 
had  of  the  change  in  the  father's  or  mother's 
feelings,  and  his  joy  could  scarcely  find  utter- 
ance. 

"  The  one  hundred  and  third  psalm  is  yours 
emphatically,"  he  said,  reaching  up  and  taking 
the  Bible  from  the  shelf. 

Mr.  Lee  asked  him  to  read  it,  and  pray  with 
them  also,  which  he  did  from  the  fulness  of  his 
heart.  The  prayer,  like  the  psalm,  was  all 
praise  and  thanksgiving.  The  little  farm- 
house was  no  longer  a  home  of  sorrow  or  sigh- 
ing, or  of  poverty  and  repining.  Its  inmates 
had  found  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ, 
and  were  rejoicing  in  hope  of  their  heavenly 
inheritance. 

Before  Mr.  Bobbins  left,  he  drew  his  chair 
close  to  Lucy's  bedside,  and  said :  "  I  have  been 
keeping  a  message  for  you  some  time,  from  a 


222  LUCY  LEE. 

friend  at  the  West.  I  don't  know  whether  I 
ought  to  deliver  it  to-day  or  not,  since  you 
have  had  so  much  fatigue  already." 

"I  do  not  feel  much  tired,"  she  said,  her 
face  all  aglow  with  a  sudden  pleasure.  "  I 
have  but  one  friend  at  the  West,  Mr.  Bobbins, 
and  do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  If  you  have  but  one,  I  think  it  quite  certain 
I  do,"  he  replied,  smiling.  "She  gave  me  so 
faithful  a  description  of  yourself,  that  was 
before  your  sickness,  that  I  had  no  difficulty 
in  knowing  you  the  first  time  I  saw  you  at 
church.  Miss  Willis's  message  was  this,  that 
while  I  remained  here  you  should  allow  me  to 
have  a  little  oversight  of  your  studies,  as  you 
would  let  her  if  she  were  near.  You  are  not 
well  enough  to  think  about  it  yet,  but  when 
you  get  stronger  you  must  let  me  come  and 
hear  your  lessons  occasionally." 

"  I  should  be  very  glad,"  she  answered,  with 
pleasure  beaming  brightly  in  her  pale  face, 
"  but  I  may  not  have  much  time  to  study  even 
when  I  am  well  enough.  I  have  been  sick  so 


LUCY  LEE.  223 

long,  mother  will  need  rne  if  I  am  ever  strong 
again.  She  has  had  a  very  hard  time." 

"  Don't  speak  of  that  now,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Lee.  "  If  you  are  ever  able  to  study  again, 
you  shall  have  all  the  time  I  can  possibly 
spare.  But  Doctor  King  says  you  must  not 
look  in  a  book  until  he  has  taken  you  to  ride, 
and  tried  your  strength." 

Lucy  could  not  recover  from  the  surprise 
of  knowing  that  Mr.  Robbins  was  a  friend  of 
dear  Miss  Willis.  She  wished  to  ask  many 
questions  about  it,  but  hesitated,  as  though 
there  might  be  some  impropriety  in  her  making 
inquiries. 

"I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  some  time," 
Mr.  Robbins  said,  reading  her  thoughts 
aright ;  "  but  I  see  you  are  too  tired  for 
any  further  conversation  to-day.  Keep  up 
good  courage,  and  may  God  bless  you,  and 
soon  restore  you  to  perfect  health,  my  friend's 
dear  young  friend,  and  my  own  I  " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WITH  all  the  care  of  her  friends,  Lucy  did 
not  recover  so  fast  as  had  been  hoped  and 
expected.  The  Doctor  gave  her  all  the  medi- 
cines to  strengthen  her  she  could  bear,  but  her 
limbs  were  too  weak  to  take  a  step  for  a  long 
time.  Every  morning  her  father  took  her  in 
his  arms  and  set  her  in  the  rocking-chair  before 
the  window,  where  she  could  hear  the  birds 
sing,  and  get  a  scent  of  the  sweet  summer  air. 
But  she  would  soon  get  weary,  and  ask  to  be 
taken  back  to  bed.  Her  hands  were  thin  and 
paler  even  than  her  cheeks ;  they  were  scarcely 
strong  enough  to  raise  her  food  to  her  mouth, 
after  it  was  carefully  cut  and  prepared. 

"  I  don't  see  why  in  the  world  you  don't  get 
an  appetite  and  grow  stout,"  Doctor  King  said 
to  her  one  morning,  entering  while  she  was 


LUCY  LEE.  225 

sitting  over  her  breakfast.  "I  thought  before 
this  time  you'd  be  huBgry  enough  to  eat  shin- 
gle nails ;  and  here  you  are  again  turning 
away  from  broiled  robin  and  strawberries. 
How  far  can  you  walk?  " 

"  To  the  bed,  if  I  hold  on  to  the  chairs,  and 
don't  fall  down  by  the  way,"  she  replied, 
laughing. 

"And  that's  just  what  she  did  yesterday, 
Doctor,"  her  mother  interposed.  "I  heard 
something  or  other  drop  in  here,  and  came  and 
found  her  flat  on  the  floor,  and  whiter  than  a 
sheet." 

"  Good  business  that,  when  you  and  I  have 
been  nursing  her  for  weeks,  as  child  was  never 
nursed  before !  What  ails  you,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  Miss  Wayland  sent  her  down  some  currant 
wine  this  morning,  and  I  tried  to  have  her 
take  a  spoonful  or  so,  but  she  wouldn't  till 
she'd  asked  you.  What  do  you  think  about 
it?"  said  Mrs.  Lee. 

"Guess  if  you  bitter  it  with  one  of  these 
powders,  she  won't  be  likely  to  drink  enough 

29 


226  LUCY  LEE. 

of  it  to  hurt  her.  Good  old  port  is  what  she 
wants,  but  we  can't  get  anything  of  the  sort  up 
here  better  than  steeped  logwood.  I  came 
down  in  the  covered  gig  this  morning,  and  my 
wife  charged  me  to  bring  Lucy  up  to  help  us 
eat  lamb  and  green  peas  for  dinner.  What  do 
you  say  to  it  ?  Will  you  go  ?  " 

"I  should  like  to  very  much,  if  I  could," 
was  Lucy's  reply. 

"What's  to  hinder?" 

"I  can't  walk  a  step  yet  by  myself; 
and " 

•"  And  what  then?  Your  father  and  mother, 
with  my  help,  might  manage  to  lift  you  into 
the  carriage;  and  my  wife  and  I,  with  big 
black  Phil,  will  try  to  get  you  out,  somehow." 

Lucy  laughed  again,  remembering  how  little 
Harry  had  taken  her  alone  that  very  morning 
from  the  bed  to  the  chair,  and  said  she  was  as 
light  as  a  feather.  • 

Her  mother,-  well  pleased  at  the  thought  of 
having  her  ride,  began  to  make  her  ready. 
When  her  shawl  was  pinned  on,  her  bonnet 


LUCY  LEE.  227 

tied,  and  a  glass  of  the  bittered  wine  drunk, 
the  doctor  took  her  in  his  arms  and  carried  her 
to  the  carriage,  her  mother  following  with  pil- 
low and  blanket.  But  the  doctor  said  Lucy 
was  going  to  ride  in  his  lap,  as  the  jolting  of 
the  gig  wouldn't  do  her  any  good.  So  in 
Doctor  King's  strong  arms,  Lucy  took  the  first 
ride  after  her  long  sickness. 

Mrs.  King  met  them  at  the  door,  and  took 
the  invalid  from  her  husband's  arms  to  her 
own,  and  laid  her  softly  on  her  own  bed,  that 
she  might  rest  a  little  while  before  dinner.  A 
great  stuffed  easy  chair,  with  a  footstool  before 
it,  was  placed  for  her  at  the  dinner-table,  and 
Lucy  felt  very  comfortable,  and  not  as  tired  as 
she  had  expected.  After  dinner  she  had  a  pil- 
low upon  the  sofa,  and  Mrs.  King  brought  her 
books  and  pictures  to  look  at,  and  did  all  she 
could  to  make  her  feel  at  ease  and  happy. 
They  had  a  large  and  well-furnished  house, 

very  different  from  the  plain  little  farm-house 

< 

of  Mrs.  Lee,  with  its  almost  naked  rooms ;  but 
Lucy  was  envious  of  nothing  she  saw — not 


228  LUCY  LEE. 

even  the  beautiful  books,  the  finest  by  far  she 
had  ever  seen. 

Mrs.  King  urged  her  to  stay  over  night,  but 
Lucy  was  certain  her  mother  would  feel  anx- 
ious if  she  did  not  get  home.  The  doctor 
thought  so  too,  as  he  had  promised  to  have  her 
there  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  or  before  dew- 
fall;  but  he  said  he  would  bring  her  again 
whenever  his  wife  signified  she  had  an  extra 
dinner  cooking. 

That  was  Doctor  King's  way  to  talk,  and 
everybody  in  the  parish  knew  and  loved  his 
hearty,  cheerful  ways,  though  he  was  sometimes 
accused  of  telling  plain  truths  in  a  blunt  way. 

Lucy  got  home  safely,  and  felt  no  worse  for 
her  ride  and  visit.  Her  mother  said  she  had 
had  a  long  lonely  day,  and  was  glad  to  have  her 
back  where  she  could  hear  her  voice  and  run 
and  look  at  her  occasionally  while  she  was  at 
her  work.  The  little  ones  pressed  around  her 
too,  and  Lucy  felt  very  thankful  for  her  hum- 
ble home  and  so  many  friends  to  love  her.  A 
great  change  had  come  over  that  home  in  a  few 


LUCY  LEE.  229 

weeks.  Every  evening  the  voice  of  prayer  and 
praise  arose  from  thence  to  heaven ;  and  tones 
softer  and  gentler  than  before  were  heard 
throughout  the  day.  The  youngest  children 
seemed  to  be  conscious  of  some  change,  and 
were  less  noisy  and  turbulent  than  before. 
"  Sissy  is  sick,  and  we  must  be  quiet  and 
good,"  was  little  Mabel's  oft- repeated  injunc- 
tion. Religion  softens  and  refines  the  harshest 
natures.  As  in  the  hands  of  the  skilful  gar- 
dener the  sweetest  flowers  and  choicest  fruits 
are  often  made  to  appear  on  the  thorniest 
stocks,  so  will  Divine  grace  transform  the 
natural  heart,  and  cause  it  to  bring  forth 
the  pleasant  fruits  of  righteousness. 

The  next  time  Mr.  Eobbins  came  he  brought 
Lucy  something  sweeter  even  than  the  fruits  or 
flowers  he  had  sent  before.  It  was  a  note  from 
Miss  Willis,  directed,  "  To  dear  Lucy  Lee,  if 
living."  Mr.  Bobbins  had  written  to  her  of 
Lucy's  dangerous  illness,  and  the  tidings  had 
called  forth  the  tenderest  expression  of  her 
loving  heart. 


230  LUCY  LEE. 

"  I  must  write  you  a  few  lines,  darling 
Lucy,"  she  said,  "  though  I  write  with  fear 
and  trembling  le,st  your  eyes  should  never  see 
the  tearful  words  I  am  penning.  It  makes  me 
very  sad  to  feel  this  sickness  of  yours  may  be 
unto  death ;  not  that  it  is  a  sad  thing  for  the 
children  of  God  to  die.  To  them  it  is  but  a 
removal  from  one  country  to  another — from  a 
country  of  pain,  sorrow,  and  death,  to  one  of 
immortal  life,  and  health,  and  joy.  I  think  I 
conversed  less  with  rny  beloved  pupils  last 
winter  about  that  immortal  country  than  I 
should  have  done.  I  feel  now,  when  I  hear 
that-one  of  them — one  so  very  dear  to  me — is 
on  the  borders  of  the  unseen  world,  that  I  was 
too  anxious  to  fit  them  for  life  and  usefulness 
in  this  world,  and  too  careless  about  their  pre- 
paration for  the  next.  If  God  raises  you  up  to 
health  again,  dear  Lucy,  will  you  not  make  an 
entire  consecration  of  yourself  to  His  service  ? 
I  think  I  have  written  to  you  before  that,  with 
all  your  thirstings  and  aspirings,  you  will  never 
rest  satisfied  with  anything  earthly.  Mr.  Eob- 


LUCY  LEE.  231 

bins  wrote  me  that  he  easily  recognised  you 
from  my  description,  and  felt  sure  you  were  a 
seeker  after  religion.  He  is  a  good  man,  and  a 
very  dear  friend  of  mine.  When  we  parted 
here,  I  charged  him  with  a  message  for  you, 
and  am  sorry  he  had  not  the  opportunity  to 
deliver  it  before  your  sickness.  I  give  him 
another  charge  now  not  to  forget  your  im- 
mortal need.  He  will  be  your  friend  and 
teacher.  Your  letter  did  me  much  good,  and  I 
hope  to  receive  many  more  from  you  in  health 
and  strength.  I  shall  write  again  as  soon  as  I 
hear  how  you  are.  Until  then  rest  assured  of 
the  warmest  love  of  your  friend, 

"  A.  WILLIS." 

Lucy  could  not  hide  her  tears  while  reading 
the  kind  words  of  her  dear  teacher  and  friend. 
Before  the  note  was  finished,  she  was  sobbing 
audibly.  Mr.  Bobbins  was  conversing  with 
her  mother,  and  neither  appeared  to  take  notice 
of  her  emotion.  When  she  had  recovered  her 
composure,  she  said,  "  I  would  like  to  answer 
this  letter,  if  I  were  only  strong  enough." 


232  LUCY  LEE. 

"Let  me  write  for  you,"  Mr.  Bobbins  said, 
kindly  drawing  near  to  her;  "you  may  trust 
me  to  tell  her  anything  you  wish  me  to.  It 
was  through  her  influence,  Lucy,  I  was  per- 
suaded to  come  to  this  place  and  try  to  do  good. 
I  preached  more  than  two  years  at  the  West, 
where  she  is  now  teaching.  When  my  health 
failed  there,  and  I  was  ordered  to  return  to 
New  England,  she  spoke  of  this  quiet  little 
place  up  among  the  mountains,  and  urged  me 
to  come  hither.  She  had  just  returned  from 
here  herself,  and  spoke  warmly  of  the  people, 
and  of  their  spiritual  necessities,  as  well  as  of 
the  salubrity  of  the  climate.  Had  not  my 
health  failed,  Miss  Willis  and  I  were  to  have 
been  married  soon  ;  but  that  event  is  postponed 
until  I  am  able  to  return  to  my  former  field 
of  labor,  or  we  shall  be  able  to  decide  upon 
a  new  one  in  a  more  healthy  locality.  I  hope, 
now  I  have  told  you  this,  you  will  not  hesitate 
to  send  any  messages  you  like,  until  you  are 
able  to  write  to  your  friend  yourself." 

"  Will  you  read  this,  sir  ?  "  she  said,  quietly 


LUCY  LEE.  233 

putting  the  note  into  his  hand.  "  Tell  her  I 
thank  her  for  it,  and  I  think  you  will  know  what 
else  I  wish  most  to  say.  And  Mr.  Bobbins," 
Lucy  colored  and  hesitated,  "  I  wish  you  would 
some  time  bring  dear  Miss  "Willis  back  again 
among  the  mountains."  Tears  filled  her  eyes 
,as  she  spoke. 

Mr.  Bobbins  observed  them,  and  answered 
caressingly,  "  She  shall  come,  if  our  lives  are 
spared,  my  dear  child.  She  has  a  sister  here, 
you  know,  and  many  friends  besides  me." 

The  note  which  Lucy  put  in  his  hand,  he 
read  silently,  and  said  as  he  returned  it,  "  What 
I  shall  write,  Lucy,  will  make  our  friend  very 

happy." 

30 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IT  was  autumn  before  Lucy  was  able  to  run 
about  again  in  her  old  way.  That  summer  was 
the  pleasantest  one  of  her  life,  however,  for 
though  languid  and  weak  in  body,  the  mind 
was  serene  and  peaceful.  All  its  old  unrest 
was  calmed  by  the  thought  that  (rod  would 
guide  her  in  the  right  way ;  that  He  who  sees 
the  end  from  the  beginning  knew  what  was 
best  for  his  short-sighted  child.'  She  fretted  no 
more  about  her  books,  but  was  content  to  learn 
lessons  of  patience  and  self-denial.  Every  one 
was  kind  to  her,  and  she  felt  her  heart  drawn  out 
in  love  to  all  her  fellow-creatures.  She  sewed 
and  knitted,  and  did  light  work  around  the 
house  as  fast  as  she  got  strength.  The  doctor 
did  not  think  her  able  to  study,  but  he  took 
her  often  to  ride  with  him  instead  ;  and  when 


LUCY  LEE.  235 

he  found  how  much  she  loved  the  mountains, 
he  made  frequent  errands  to  their  summits,  and 
sometimes  to  the  villages  beyond.  Lucy  felt 
very  grateful  for  his  many  kindnesses  to  her, 
though  he  would  never  allow  her  to  say  a 
word  about  it.  "Wasn't  it  pleasanter  for  a 
person  who  had  to  go  night  and  day  to  have 
company  sometimes  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  No  man 
could  live  by  chewing  his  own  cud  always. 
His  wife  was  more  afraid  of  the  mountains 
than  of  bears,  and  he  wanted  some  one  to  speak 
to  occasionally.  Moreover,  old  Jack  was  always 
ready  to  run  away,  if  he  stopped  a  minute  for 
hazel-nuts,  or  mountain  raspberries,  which  were 
very  good  in  their  season,  and  which  often  he 
had  to  pass  without  picking,  because  he  had 
nobody  to  hold  the  reins  for  him." 

So  it  was  on  account  of  the  doctor's  fondness 
for  company  in  his  excursions,  and  old  Jack's 
unsteadiness,  which  no  mortal  ever  suspected 
before,  or  for  some  other  reason  quite  as  enig- 
matical, that  Lucy  found  herself  often  enjoying 
the  glorious  scenery  of  the  mountains  which 


236  LUCY  LEE. 

skirted  her  valley  home.  It  was  more  than 
enjoyment  to  her ;  it  was  a  sweet,  calm  rap- 
ture, such  as  a  little  flower  might  be  supposed 
to  feel  in  the  hour  of  its  unfolding. 

Many  grave  discussions  attended  these  ex- 
cursions, for  the  doctor  loved  nothing  better 
than  to  drop  a  weighty  thread  occasionally 
into  her  child  mind,  and  sound  its  depths. 
There  was  a  freshness  and  vigor  in  the  thoughts 
evoked  from  thence  which  he  liked  better  than 
all  the  logic  of  the  schools.  The  simple  ear- 
nestness with  which  she  brought  her  own 
reasons  and  convictions  to  weigh  against  his 
cavils  simply  amused  him  at  first,  until  the 
force  of  her  arguments  filled  him  with  sur- 
prise. 

"  Who  has  taught  you  all  these  things  ?  "  he 
inquired  of  her  one  day  when  he  had  been 
drawing  her  out  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
"  Who  told  you  how  to  answer  an  old  sceptic 
who  doubts  everything  almost,  except  his  own 
existence  ?  " 

Lucy  blushed  and  hesitated.    Her  face  was 


LUCY  LEE.  237 

more  of  a  puzzle  to  the  old  man  than  her 
words. 

"I  think  the  Holy  Spirit  teaches  me  the 
little  I  know,"  she  answered  meekly. 

"  What  makes  you  think  so,  child  ?  The 
Holy  Spirit  teaches  me  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"  Perhaps  you  don't  go  to  His  school,"  was 
the  naive  reply.  "It  is  only  lately  I  have 
understood  anything  in  this  way.  You  know 
the  Bible  says :  '  The  natural  man  receiveth 
not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  for  they 
are  foolishness  unto  him :  neither  can  he  know 
them,  because  they  are  spiritually  discerned.' 
That  is  why  I  think,  when  I  understand  things 
now  which  were  all  dark  to  me  before,  that 
the  Spirit  teaches  me." 

"  They  shall  all  be  taught  of  God"  mused  the 
doctor  in  an  undertone,  and  a  long  silence  en- 
sued. Then  Lucy  ventured  to  say : 

"  I  think  if  you  would  talk  to  Mr.  Bobbins 
on  the  subject,  he  would  be  able  to  explain 
some  things  to  you  more  plainly." 

"  Pho !  Mr.  Bobbins  teaches  as  he  has  been 


233  LUCY  LEE. 

taught,  I  suppose.     I   don't  care  a  fig  about 
seminary  theology  any  way." 

"But  he  is  a  good  man,"  persisted  Lucy. 

"  Yes ;  there  you  have  me  again.  No  one 
can  dispute  Mr.  Eobbins  being  a  good  man 
who  takes  note  of  his  daily  life ;  and  that's  the 
preaching  that  tells.  Not  the  speaking  with 
the  tongues  of  men  or  of  angels,  which  without 
charity  is  no  more  than  sounding  brass  or 
tinkling  cymbals.  Mr.  Bobbins  practises  all 
he  preaches ;  and  does  not,  like  the  evil  shep- 
herds, ''Eat  the  fat  and  clothe  himself  with  the 
wool '  of  the  Lord's  poor.  I  know  something 
about  him  myself,  Lucy.  There  are  my  two 
patients  up  at  the  poor-house,  whom  he  visits 
oftener  than  I  do,  and  carries  them  better  me- 
dicines than  anything  in  my  saddle-bags,  by 
all  odds.  Last  week  he  took  warm  flannel  for 
the  old  woman  with  rheumatism,  and  fresh 
meat  and  peaches  for  the  young  one  in  con- 
sumption. I  caught  him  in  the  distribution, 
and  he  apologized  and  stammered  as  though 
lie  thought  himself  verily  guilty  of  what  I 


LUCY  LEE.  .  239 

accused  him,  namely,  the  intent  to  steal  away 
my  practice.'1'1 

"  But  he  knew  you  were  not  in  earnest,  doc- 
tor!" 

"  How  did  he  know  it  ?  " 

"  Just  as  /  know,  when  you  come  for  me 
to  ride,  and  say  it's  because  you  can't  trust  old 
Jack  with  the  buggy  when  the  sun  shines; 
and  just  as  I  know  too,  that  while  you  call 
yourself  an  unbeliever,  you  are  almost  a  Chris- 
tian." 

"  I  would  to  God  I  were  altogether  one,  my 
child,"  he  answered  solemnly,  "  in  heart  and 
life,  a  sincere,  humble  Christian  I  " 

"  Jesus  Christ  is  the  way,"  Lucy  said,  look- 
ing up  to  him  with  a  face  beaming  with  glad- 
ness. "  You  will  find  it  a  very  easy,  pleasant 
way." 

"  Not  as  easy  as  you  imagine  for  an  old  sin- 
ner like  me,  who  had  rather  go  about  establish- 
ing his  own  righteousness,  than  trusting  in  the 
merits  of  the  Son  of  God.  I  know  it  is  a 
way  that  opens  wide  unto  the  young." 


240  LUCY  LEE. 

They  had  no  more  conversation  that  day, 
for  they  had  just  reached  the  door  of  Lucy's 
home.  But  the  doctor  took  her  from  the  car- 
riage with  even  more  than  his  customary 
tenderness,  and  said,  "  You  shall  be  my  teacher 
henceforward,  my  good  little  girl." 

Lucy  could  not  dismiss  the  doctor's  words 
from  her  mind.  She  thought  of  the  sad  tone 
with  which  he  said,  "  Not  as  easy  as  you  imagine" 
It  was  so  unlike  his  usual  cheerful  voice,  that 
it  went  to  her  very  heart.  No  one  could  have 
been  kinder  than  Doctor  King  had  been  to  her 
ever  since  her  sickness,  no  gentle  woman  more 
sympathizing  in  her  hours  of  pain  and  weak- 
ness. Now  he  was  weary  and  heavy-laden 
perhaps,  just  as  she  had  been  when  she  first 
longed  to  be  lifted  in  the  arms  of  the  Good 
Shepherd.  How  gladly  would  Lucy  have 
taken  him  by  the  hand,  and  said,  "  Come  to  my 
Saviour  and  he  will  give  you  rest." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  him !"  she  often  thought 
as  she  went  round  the  house,  a  shadow  graver 
than  usual.  She  thought  at  last;  and  when 


LUCY  LEE.  241 

she  went  up  to  her  little  chamber  that  night, 
she  prayed  as  she  had  seldom  prayed  before, 
that  the  blindness  might  be  removed  from  her 
dear  friend's  eyes;  that  he  might  see  the 
way  of  salvation  plainly,  through  a  crucified 

Eedeemer. 

31 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  next  time  Doctor  King  came  to  take 
Lucy  to  ride,  he  said  to  her,  "  I  haven't  found 
the  way  you  spoke  of  yet,  my  child — the  way 
to  be  a  Christian." 

"  Have  you  asked  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  I  have  asked  my  own  reason  and  heart, 
but  they  give  me  no  assurance." 

"  If  we  were  riding  a  way  we  did  not  know 
and  should  get  lost,  would  you  ask  your  own 
reason  the  right  way,  or  look  for  a  guide  or 
guide-board  ?  " 

"  We  might  not  be  able  to  find  either, 
Lucy." 

"  But  we  can  always  find  them  on  the  way 
from  earth  to  heaven  ;  and  we  have  only  to 
inquire,  to  be  led  aright." 

"  How  can  you  prove  it  ?  " 


LUCY  LEE.  243 

"  By  this  little  guide-book,"  she  said,  taking 
her  Testament  from  her  pocket,  and  opening  to 
the  seventh  chapter  of  Matthew.  "  It  is  writ- 
ten here,  '  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  you ; 
seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be 
opened  unto  you.  For  every  one  that  asketh, 
receiveth ;  and  he  that  seeketh,  findeth ;  and 
to  him  that  knocketh,  it  shall  be  opened.' 
Every  one,  you  see,  doctor.  It  don't  say  a 
few,  or  a  good  many,  but  every  one  who 
wishes." 

The  doctor  sat  watching  her  thin,  earnest 
face  as  she  spoke.  "I  see  you  believe  that 
guide  implicitly,"  he  said,  as  she  looked  up  in 
his  face  for  some  reply. 

"  Which  way  should  I  turn  if  I  didn't  ?  " 
she  answered  sadly.  "  Oh,  Doctor  King !  don't 
you  believe  this  precious  guide  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  certain.  If  I  really  did  believe 
it,  should  I  stand  doubting  and  hesitating  as  I 
do  now,  my  child  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  and  tears  filled 
her  eyes  as  she  spoke.  "  But  if  you  don't  feel 


244  LUCY  LEE. 

quite  sure,  the  Saviour  will  not  leave  you. 
He  will  come  and  stand  at  the  door  of  your 
heart  and  ask  to  be  let  in.  I  think  he  is 
knocking  there  now,  and  I  know  you  will 
open  it  to  him ;  won't  you  ?  "  and  the  tears, 
which  a  moment  before  had  gathered  in  her 
eyes,  now  fell  thickly. 

No  one  would  have  believed  the  soft,  tremu- 
lous voice  that  answered,  "  I'm  a  hardened  old 
fellow,  Lucy,  but  I  will  try,"  belonged  to  the. 
village  doctor ;  no  one  who  had  never  heard  it 
in  the  hour  of  anguish,  or  death,  when  the 
usual  blunt- toned  physician  yielded  to  the  ten- 
der, sorrowing  friend.  Lucy's  little  ungloved 
hand  was  laid  gently  in  the  doctor's  great, 
broad  palm,  and  the  smile  that  lighted  up  her 
features  looked  not  unlike  the  rainbow  which 
shines  from  a  summer  cloud.  She  did  not  say 
his  words  made  her  glad,  but  every  expres- 
sion of  her  face,  every  tone  of  her  voice,  testi- 
fied it  more  plainly  than  any  words. 

The  doctor  had  a  number  of  calls  to  make 
that  afternoon,  and  it  was  nearly  night  when 


LUGY  LEE.  245 

Lucy  reached  home,  happier  than  she  had  ever 
felt  before,  at  the  close  of  a  pleasant  day. 

It  was  soon  remarked  throughout  the  parish 
that  Doctor  King  was  interested  in  religion. 
His  attendance  upon  the  meetings  for  prayer 
became  frequent,  while  the  seriousness  of  his 
countenance  indicated  a  solemn  questioning  of 
heart.  No  one  approached  him  on  the  sub- 
ject, fearful,  perhaps,  of  disturbing  the  silent 
operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Even  Mr. 
Bobbins  forbore  questioning,  though  he  was 
often  borne  on  his  spirit  to  the  throne  of  love 
and  grace.  Only  a  warmer  grasp  of  the  hand 
when  they  met,  and  on  one  occasion  an  invo- 
luntary "  God  help  you,  my  dear  sir,"  told  the 
devoted  pastor's  sympathy  with  the  awakened 
man.  A  more  demonstrative  character,  or  an 
intellect  of  less  scope,  he  would  have  approach- 
ed differently ;  but  in  no  other  way  could  he 
so  effectually  have  opened  the  interior  passages 
of  the  doctor's  confidence,  and  brought  him  to 
unbosom  his  new  wants  and  resolves.  Then, 
as  brother  stands  by  brother  in  the  hour  of 


246  LUCY  LEE. 

trial  and  condemnation,  as  petition  after  peti- 
tion is  drawn  up  and  presented  for  his  pardon, 
so  did  the  affectionate  young  minister  stand 
with  words  of  encouragement,  and  cheering 
promises  of  abundant,  free  forgiveness  through 
the  great  atoning  sacrifice. 

"  The  same  way  of  salvation  our  little  invalid 
has  been  preaching  to  me  for  days  and  weeks," 
the  doctor  said.  Then  he  told  of  the  many 
conversations  he  had  had  with  Lucy  in  their 
rides  together,  and  how  earnestly  she  had 
labored  to  lead  him  from  the  paths  of  unbelief. 

"  There  is  no  other  name  given  among  men 
whereby  we  can  be  saved,"  said  Mr.  Bobbins, 
solemnly.  "  The  oldest  divine,  and  the  young- 
est child  taking  the  first  steps  in  the  Christian 
course,  can  speak  of  no  other  than  the  Living 
Way.  Lucy  was  wonderfully  prepared  to  find 
that  way  a  way  of  pleasantness  and  peace." 

"  That  child  would  make  an  able  evangelist, 
Mr.  Bobbins." 

"  I  hope  to  see  her  educated  for  a  teacher,' 
was  his  reply.  "  I  have  only  been  waiting  for 


L UCT  LEE.  247 

you  to  say  she  is  sufficiently  strong,  to  renew 
my  offers  of  assistance." 

It  was  not  long  after  the  foregoing  conversa- 
tion, that  Doctor  King  arose  in  a  meeting  for 
conference  and  prayer,  and  spoke  in  a  subdued 
tone  of  the  dealings  of  God  with  his  soul,  and 
of  his  wish  and  determination  in  future  to  live  as 
became  a  man  who  had  put  on  Christ.  His 
words  were  few,  but  there  was  something  in 
his  manner  which  carried  conviction  to  all 
present,  that  his  was  no  hasty  resolve,  born  in 
the  impulse  of  a  moment,  to  melt  away  with 
time,  but  a  deliberate,  sanctified  purpose, 
stretching  forward  into  the  long  years  of  eter- 
nity. Many  a  heart  was  gladdened,  and  many 
eyes  made  tearful  by  that  simple  testimony  of 
the  parish  physician,  who,  of  all  men  among 
them,  was  the  best  beloved.  Many  a  mother 
in  that  congregation  whose  little  one  had  closed 
its  eyes  in  her  kind  arms  in  the  slumber  that 
knows  no  earthly  awaking,  wept  at  the  remem- 
brance of  his  tender  sympathy ;  while  her  heart 
swelled  with  thanksgiving,  that  his  own  strong 


248  LUCY  LEE. 

spirit  had  found  something  to  comfort  and 
stay  itself  upon  at  last. 

Doctor  King's  conversion  seemed  to  be  the 
last  drop  of  the  pleasant  revival  shower — the 
crowning  sheaf  of  a  precious,  harvest  summer. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  autumn  came  with  its  crimson  woods 
and  golden  harvests.  Never  had  the  fields  of 
the  husbandmen  ripened  in  richer  plenty. 
Never,  from  that  little  parish  among  the  moun- 
tains, had  so  many  hearts  been  ready  to  offer 
thanksgiving  for  all  God's  mercies. 

"  As  the  Lord  hath  prospered  us,  we  ought 
to  give  for  .the  support  of  the  gospel  in  our 
midst,"  said  one  and  another  new-born  soul. 
"  The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire."  A  meet- 
ing was  called,  and  it  was  voted  unanimously 
to  ascertain  whether  Mr.  Bobbins  could  be 
induced  to  settle  among  them  for  such  salary 
as  they  could  offer.  Doctor  King  was  fore- 
most in  the  enterprise,  and  pledged  himself  for 
one-fourth  of  whatever  sum  the  parish  would 

agree  to  raise.     With  this  promise,  four  hun- 
32 


250  LUCY  LEE. 

dred  dollars  were  speedily  voted,  and  a  com- 
mittee appointed  to  wait  upon  the  pastor  of 

their  choice. 

i 

Mr.  Bobbins  was  taken  by  surprise.  He 
had  never  dreamed  of  a  call  to  settle  in  the 
little  obscure  parish,  to  which  Christian  love 
and  charity  had  first  directed  his  steps.  He 
wanted  time  to  reflect  upon  it;  time,  too,  to 
consult  another  whose  life-lot  was  to  be  linked 
with  his  own.  He  felt  that  the  people  had 
pledged  themselves  for  a  sum  greater  than  in 
their  humble  circumstances  they  could  afford, 
and  he  told  them  so  frankly.  But  the  people 
were  willing  to  make  any  self-denial  rather 
than  be  deprived  again  of  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel. 

Mr.  Bobbins  had  just  opened  a  school  in  the 
village  for  an  autumn  term,  and  had  had  seve- 
ral applications  from  neighboring  parishes  to 
receive  pupils.  The  thought  occurred  to  him, 
"  What,  after  all,  if  the  Lord  have  been  leading 
me  in  a  way  that  I  knew  not  of,  and  this  be 
the  place  appointed  for  me  !  What,  if  for  this 


LUCY  LEE.  251 

same  purpose,  he  took  away  my  health  and 
destroyed  my  present  hopes  of  usefulness  in 
the  broader  field  upon  which  I  had  entered, 
that  I  might,  all  my  life  long,  preach  the  gos- 
pel to  the  poor,  and  train  youthful  feet  for  the 
paths  of  life  and  immortality  !  If  so,  am  I  not 
ready?  "Pis  a  humble  lot,  but  so  was  my 
master's." 

A  number  of  weeks  elapsed  before  Mr.  Rob- 
bins  replied  to  the  call ;  weeks  of  doubt  and 
anxiety  to  himself,  as  well  as  to  the  parishioners. 
He  made  it  a  subject  of  daily  prayer,  until  the 
way  became  plain  before  him.  He  was  not 
one  who  looked  lightly  upon  the  duties  and 
responsibilities  involved  in  the  pastoral  office ; 
neither  did  he  believe  in  the  growing  custom 
of  changing  or  breaking  up  for  trivial  reasons, 
the  settled  sacred  relation  of  pastor  and  peo- 
ple. 

"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  to  abide 
with  us  on  such  poor  terms  as  we  can  offer  ?  " 
was  the  inquiry  of  Doctor  King,  one  evening 
when  they  met. 


252  LUCY  LEE. 

"Until  I  die,  if  the  Lord  will,"  was  the 
warm,  -heart-gushing  response. 

It  was  speedily  communicated  to  the  waiting 
parish,  and  received  with  great  joy. 

Our  reader  may  like  to  see  the  extract  from 
a  letter,  which  was  not  without  its  influence 
upon  the  foregoing  decision  : 

"  Since  you  urge  me  to  speak  my  mind 
freely,"  the  writer  said,  u  and  ask  whether  I  am 
prepared  to  spend  my  life  among  the  hills  of 
Vermont,  I  can  only  reply,  if  there  be  your 
call,  and  there  your  work,  I  shall  rejoice  at  the 
one,  and  be  ready  to-  share  in  the  other.  I 
should  love  to  live  among  the  mountains  far 
better  than  in  the  city,  or  on  the  prairie,  if  we 
may  only  be  as  useful  there  as  elsewhere.  It 
seems  to  me  our  souls,  as  well  as  our  bodies, 
grow  more  vigorous  in  such  a  clear,  calm 
atmosphere;  and  I  am  confident  we  should 
enjoy  more  of  each  other's  society  there  than 
in  this  busy  frontier  city.  I  shall  leave  my 
school  here  with  reluctance ;  but  what  you 
write  of  my  Yermont  pupils,  and  the  prospect 


LUCY  LEE.  253 

of  a  permanent  school  there,  will  lighten  my 
sorrow.  I  am  very  glad  that  Lucy  is  so  far 
recovered,  and  able  to  study  a  little.  The 
influence  she  exerted  on  Doctor  King  scarcely 
surprised  me ;  for  such  warm,  earnest  natures 
as  hers,  are  born  to  exert  an  influence.  I  hope, 
if  you  decide  to  remain,  we  shall  be  able  to 
assist  her  very  much.  Give  much  love  to  her, 
and  say  what  you  please  about  the  probability 
of  my  seeing- her  soon." 

Talk  about  an  ordination  soon  began  to  be 
heard.  Such  an  event  had  taken  place  but 
once  in  the  parish,  and  that  was  long  years 
before,  when  the  "  old  folks "  were  young. 
For  various  reasons  Mr.  Bobbins  wished  to 
have  it  postponed  until  Christmas ;  one  was, 
his  school  would  not  be  out  until  November ; 
another,  he  had  a  journey  to  make  which 
would  require  an  absence  of  a  number  of 
weeks. 

Every  one  guessed  the  purpose  of  his  jour- 
ney, though  no  one  was  specially  informed 
but  Lucy  Lee,  who  never  told  what  she  knew 


254  LUCY  LEE. 

of  the  matter.  Words  would  hardly  express 
the  delight  which  that  intelligence  afforded  her, 
for  though,  since  Mr.  Kobbins's  promise,  she 
had  looked  forward  with  hope  to  a  meeting  with 
her  beloved  friend  at  some  future  time,  it  had 
never  occurred  to  her  that  she  would  return  to 
make  her  home  in  their  little  mountain  village. 
She  had  supposed  it  very  certain  that  after  the 
confirmation  of  Mr.  Robbins's  health,  he  would 
go  back  again  to  his  former  field  of  labor. 
His  consent  to  abide  with  them  was  therefore 
almost  as  much  of  a  marvel  to  her  as  a  joy. 

Harry  and  Charley  Lee  both  attended  the 
autumn  school,  but  as  Lucy  was  not  able,  she 
was  as  contented  and  happy  as  possible  with 
her  lessons  at  home.  Though  she  still  did  all 
she  could  to  assist  her  mother  with  the  house- 
work, sewing  and  knitting,  and  found  but  little 
time  for  study,  everything  went  pleasantly  and 
harmoniously  now.  Her  mother  had  reproach- 
ed herself  too  much  during  her  daughter's  ill- 
ness, to  longer  oppose  her  tastes,  if  she  still 
failed  to  comprehend  them.  So  Lucy  studied 


LUCY  LEE.  255 

grammar  or  history,  or  wrote  out  her  poetic 
fancies,  whenever  she  found  opportunity.  Mr. 
Eobbins  came  as  often  as  he  could  find  time,  to 
encourage  and  assist  her  in  her  studies,  and 
sometimes  took  away  with  him  a  composition 
which  he  failed  to  return.  Doctor  King  came 
as  usual  to  take  her  to  ride,  and  one  day  stop- 
ped on  their  return  to  speak  a  word  with  her 
mother. 

The  word  was  spoken  in  the  doctor's  own 
way.  "  His  wife  was  tired  of  being  so  much 
alone,"  he  said,  "  and  wished  him  to  call  and 
ask  Mrs.  Lee's  consent  for  Lucy  to  come  and 
spend  a  while  with  them.  There  was  a  whole 
library  of  books  at  her  disposal,  a  room  full 
of  medicine  if  she  should  happen  to  need  it, 
and  she  might  take  all  the  knitting  and  sewing 
from  home  she  wished  to  do.  How  could 
Mrs.  Lee  object  ?  " 

She  could  not,  with  so  many  advantages 
held  out  to  her  child,  though  the  thought  of 
parting  with  her  for  a  single  day  was  a  sore 
trouble  to  her  now,  Lucy  felt  this,  and  said 


256  LUCY  LEE.  . 

she  thought  she  had  better  not  go.  But  her 
mother  said  if  her  father  were  willing,  she 
would  not  think  of  keeping  her  at  home  on 
her  own  account,  when  a  short  visit  might  do 
her  a  great  deal  of  good.  Luckily  she  could 
hear  from  her  every  day  by  the  boys  when 
they  came  from  school. 

So  Doctor  King  went  away  with  some  en- 
couragement, if  he  came  again  the  next  week, 
Lucy  would  accompany  him  home. 

At  the  appointed  time  he  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  Lucy,  with  a  little  bag  of  clothes  on 
her  arm,  and  her  portfolio  tied  up  in  a  news- 
paper in  her  hand,  kissed  her  mother  and  the 
two  little  ones,  then  with  tears  in  her  eyes  took 
her  seat  beside  the  doctor  in  the  familiar 
buggy. 

The  doctor  wrapped  her  carefully  with  the 
robes,  and  began  to  talk  to  her  in  a  lively  tone 
to  make  her  forget  she  was  leaving  home.  He 
told  her  his  wife  was  tired  to  death  of  having 
never  a  child  nor  a  chick  in  the  house,  except 
old  black  Phillis,  to  speak  to  when  he  was 


LUCY  LEE.  257 

gone,  and  had  been  to  work  and  fixed  her  up 
a  nice  warm  room,  where  she  could  read  and 
study  and  sleep  as  much  as  she  pleased.  The 
doctor  told  her  only  the  truth ;  and  Lucy 
found  on  her  arrival  as  warm  a  welcome  as  she 
could  possibly  have  wished,  and  after  a  day  or 
two  she  began  to  feel  at  home  and  comforta- 
ble. 

Mr.  Bobbins  came  to  see  her  very  soon,  and 
said  if  Doctor  King  thought  it  would  not  hurt 
her,  he  would  like  to  have  her  come  into 
school  a  little  while  every  afternoon,  and  re- 
cite arithmetic  with  the  class.  The  school  was 
only  a  few  steps  across  the  street.  Lucy  found 
it  very  pleasant;  and  after  a  few  days'  trial 
of  her  strength,  was  a  regular  attendant  until 
its  close. 


33 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THOUGH  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee  and  the  little 
ones  missed  Lucy  very  much  at  home,  they 
could  not  think  of  depriving  her  of  the  advan- 
tages so  unexpectedly  offered.  Doctor  King 
insisted  that  if  Mr.  Eobbins  continued  his 
school  through  the  winter,  she  should  remain 
with  them,  and  attend.  They  would  look 
after  her  health  as  carefully  as  though  she 
were  their  own  child.  With  this  understanding 
and  promise  she  went  home  to  spend  the  vaca- 
tion, while  Mr.  Robbins  went  away  to  the 
West. 

One  clear,  bright,  December  morning,  when 
Lucy  had  been  home  about  four  weeks,  she 
ran  to  the  window  at  the  sound  of  sleigh  bells, 
and  saw  Dr.  King's  horse  and  cutter  stopping 
before  the  gate.  The  doctor  was  not  driving, 


LUCY  LEE.  259 

and  a  second  glance  told  her  it  was  Mr.  Bob- 
bins and  a  lady, ,"  his  wife"  he  said,  as  Lucy 
met  them  at  the  door,  and  was  clasped  fondly 
in  the  arms  of  her  dear  old  teacher.  They  had 
reached  the  village  the  evening  before,  and 
were  stopping  at  Dr.  King's  until  their  own 
parsonage-house  was  ready  for  them. 

Mrs.  Bobbins  was  going  to  spend  the  first 
day  with  her  sister,  and  Dr.  King  had  insisted 
they  should  bring  Lucy  back*  with  them  at 
night,  so  they  called  in  the  morning  to  bid  her 
be  ready. 

It  was  only  a  few  days  before  the  ordination, 
and  the  time  passed  very  pleasantly.  The  school 
at  the  new  parsonage  opened  then,  and  Lucy 
became  a  daily  pupil.  Mrs.  Bobbins  presented 
hei*  with  a  number  of  school-books,  more,  Lucy 
thought,  than  she  should  ever  find  time  to 
study.  She  was  mistaken,  however,  for  every 
month  found  her  making  steady  advancement. 
She  had  some  interruptions.  There  were  days 
when  she  was  not  well,  and  then  the  doctor 
would  not  allow  her  to  go  to  school.  There  were 


260  LUCY  LEE. 

seasons  of  sickness,  too,  at  the  cottage  at  home, 
and  Lucy  was  always  there,  a  patient  nurse  and 
most  affectionate  watcher.  There  were  other 
seasons  besides,  when  the  labor  and  care  fell 
too  heavy  on  her  mother,  and  at  such  times  she 
would  go  home  to  divide  the  weariness  and  toil. 

She  was  better  for  these  interruptions, 
stronger  in  head  and  heart ;  better  in  health, 
too,  it  may  be,  though  still  very  slender  and  deli- 
cate. Her  constitution  never  seemed  to  quite 
recover  from  that  first  severe  shock  of  illness, 
and  her  friends  watched  over  her  with  the  ten- 
derest  care. 

Lucy  carried  every  doubt  and  difficulty  to 
Mrs.  Bobbins,  as  she  had  done  to  dear  Miss 
Willis  of  old,  and  found  in  her  the  same  in- 
dulgent, sympathizing  friend  and  helper.  And 
so  months  and  years  passed  away,  and  the  little 
parsonage  school  among  the  mountains  grew 
to  be  one  of  the  fixed  institutions  of  the  State. 
Pupils  from  distant  sections  flocked  inv  until 
there  was  no  more  room  to  receive  them. 
When  the  parsonage  was  full,  Doctor  King 


LUCY  LEE.  261 

took  a  few  boarders ;  among  them  was  a  nephew 
of  his,  fitting  for  the  University. 

Morton,  King  was  a  youth  of  unusual  pro- 
mise, and  his  influence  was  soon  felt  throughout 
the  whole  school.  Every  class  with  which  he 
was  associated,  seemed  stimulated  by  his  supe- 
rior scholarship ;  and  as  he  had  always  a  word  of 
help  and  encouragement  for  those  who  needed 
them,  he  was  regarded  with  the  highest  favor. 
No  one  was  jealous  of  his  fine  talents ;  no 
one  could  have  been  jealous  or  envious  of  one 
who  bore  himself  so  meekly  among  his  fellow 
students,  and  was  always  stimulating  them  to 
industry,  and  trying  to  do  them  good.  To 
Lucy,  who  was  just  commencing  the  study  of 
the  classics,  he  was  a  most  valuable  assistant. 
Doctor  King's  little  sitting-room  rang  at  even- 
ing with  their  Latin  declensions  and  conjuga- 
tions, until  his  wife  declared  it  was  almost  as 
bad  as  reading  the  labels  in  the  apothecary's 
shop.  Morton  and  Lucy  led  their  classes,  and 
were  admitted  to  be  the  best  scholars  in  the 
school. 


262  LUCY  LEE. 

As  the  cares  of  her  family  increased  Mrs. 
Bobbins  began  to  give  Lucy  the  oversight  of 
her  younger  classes,  until  she  grew  in  time  to 
be  the  regular  assistant  pupil-teacher,  and 
received  pay  for  her  services.  Her  proficiency 
was  now  more  rapid  than  ever  before,  for 
while  her  earlier  lessons  were  in  constant 
review,  her  progress  was  still  onward.  She 
was  an  excellent  mathematician,  learned  the 
languages  with  facility,  and  at  fifteen  would 
write  a  theme  or  essay  which  both  Mr.  Bobbins 
and  Doctor  King  declared  fit  for  a  college 
examination.  Occasionally  in  the  poets'  corner 
of  one  of  the  State  newspapers  appeared  arti- 
cles which  the  editor  pronounced  "  Gems." 
No  one  but  Lucy  and  Mrs.  Bobbins  knew  any- 
thing of  their  authorship. 

At  length,  one  of  the  metropolitan  maga- 
zines offered  prizes  for  the  best  tales  and  poems 
which  should  be  offered  within  two  months. 
Mrs.  Bobbins  whispered  to  Lucy,  "Now  is 
your  time  to  enter  the  field  !  There  will  be  a 
hundred  aspirants ;  try  with  the  rest.  Your 


LUCY  LEE.  263 

name  need  not  go  before  the  public  unless  you 
desire  it." 

Lucy  lent  all  her  strength  to  the  effort,  and 
surpassed  even  the  expectations  of  her  friend 
and  adviser.  'When,  some  weeks  after,  word 
came  that  the  "  Green  Mountain  Poetess  "  had 
won  the  prize  for  the  second  best  article,  Lucy's 
heart  leaped  as  it  had  never  done  since  that 
May  morning  so  long  ago,  when  she  made  her 
first  attempt  at  authorship.  She  had  not  for- 
gotten that  morning,  and  would  never  forget 
the  joy  she  felt  while  running  down  the  old 
staircase  to  read  the  successful  effort  to  her 
mother,  and  the  grief  and  mortification  that 
followed.  Many  years  had  passed  since — hap- 
py, pleasant  years ;  but  those  words,  "  Never 
let  me  hear  any  more  such  nonsense,"  would 
not  fade  from  her  recollection.  She  had  writ- 
ten much  since  then,  but  never  had  a  word  or 
line  of  it  all  been  forced  upon  her  mother's 
notice ;  for  though  Mrs.  Lee  was  now  one  of 
the  kindest,  most  self-denying  of  mothers,  her 
taste  for  literature  had  in  no  wise  changed. 


264  LUCY  LEE. 

In  the  little  pasteboard  box,  up  in  the 
drawer  of  the  pine-table  at  home,  was  Lucy's 
first  poem,  torn  apart  in  a  moment  of  humilia- 
tion and  keen  resentment,  then  laid  carefully 
aside  for  an  hour  of  triumph.  That  hour  had 
now  come,  but  the  resentment  had  long  since 
passed  away,  and  there  was  not  even  triumph 
in  her  heart,  only  a  soft,  quiet  joy,  as  she 
went  and  put  the  letter,  with  the  bank-note 
which  accompanied  it,  into  the  hands  of 
her  mother.  "  I  'dorj't  want  the  money," 
she  said,  with  a  quivering  lip.  "I  earn 
all  I  need  in  school,  and  Doctor  King  will 
not  take  a  cent  for  my  board.  Take  it  to 
get  things  for  yourself,  and  Ruth,  and  little 
Hetty." 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee  were  delighted  with 
this  proof  of  their  daughter's  talent,  though, 
had  the  latter  spoken  her  mind  freely  about 
the  successful  poem,  it  would  probably  have 
been  like  this :  "  Only  some  nonsense  about 
the  mountains  which  I  never  did  nor  ever  can 
understand." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

LUCY'S  success  as  a  poetess  was  soon  whis- 
pered through  the  school  and  the  village.  Her 
friends  congratulated  her ;  and  some  of  them 
repeated  in  substance  what  the  editor  had 
written  in  his  letter,  that  if  she  gave  her  atten- 
tion to  literature,  a  world  of  fame  might  lie 
before  her. 

Nothing  sounds  so  sweetly  in  a  young 
author's  ear  as  fame ;  and  Lucy  listened  to 
the  words  of  her  friends  with  a  new  and  deli- 
cious sensation  at  her  heart.  She  saw  only  a 
flower-strewn  way,  leading  upwards.  To  the 
eye  of  imagination  that  way  had  neither  thorn 
nor  weariness,  and  she  longed  to  enter  upon 
it  and  press  forward ;  but  the  labor  of  her 
classes,  together  with  her  own  regular  studies, 

left  very  little  time  for  efforts  of  imagination. 
34 


266  LUCY  LEE. 

Only  one  circumstance  damped  the  pleas- 
ure she  felt  at  her  literary  success  ;  and  though 
she  scarcely  admitted  it  even  to  herself,  that 
one  at  times  lay  heavy  on  her  heart.  One  of 
her  friends  and  schoolmates,  who  had  always 
been  first  to  express  joy  whenever  she  suc- 
ceeded in  any  undertaking,  had  no  word  of 
congratulation  for  her  now,  when  all  besides 
were  making  professions  of  gladness.  Morton 
King  not  only  avoided  mentioning  it  himself, 
but  looked  troubled  when  others  spoke  of  it  in 
his  presence.  No  one  noticed  this  circum- 
stance, perhaps,  but  Lucy ;  but  she  had  grown 
so  accustomed  to  his  ways,  so  familiar  with  his 
likes  and  dislikes,  in  the  two  years  they  had 
passed  together,  she  felt  she  could  not  be  mis- 
taken. That  Morton  was  secretly  dissatisfied 
she  was  certain,  though  for  what  reasons  she 
puzzled  herself  in  vain  to  discover.  Some- 
times she  resolved  to  ask  him,  and  thus  put 
an  end  to  her  doubts ;  but  whenever  she 
attempted  to  speak  about  it,  delicacy  or  pride 
prevented,  until  a  feeling  of  embarrassment 


LUC7  LEE.  267 

and  restraint  began  to  take  the  place  of  mutual 
confidence  and  esteem.  Once  or  twice  Lucy 
fancied  he  was  going  to  speak  to  her  on  the 
subject,  when  something  prevented  ;  and  now 
the  term  was  fast  drawing  to  a  close,  and 
Morton  was  going  away  to  return  no  more. 

"I  would  give  anything  to  know  what  it 
is,"  Lucy  said  to  herself  one  evening  when  she 
had  taken  her  books  to  her  own  room  to  study 
the  morrow's  lessons.  "  I  would  like  to  know 
whether  he  is  really  displeased  with  me,  or  is 
only  in  the  blues  about  going  away,  as  his 
uncle  says.  He  doesn't  seem  offended,  but  so 
changed.  I  am  afraid  it  is  about  that  maga- 
zine article,  and  I  would  a  thousand  times 
never  have  written  it  than  to  have  pained  him 
in  any  way.  Morton  has  been  as  kind  to  me 
as  a  brother,  ever  since  he  came." 

Lucy's  heart  spoke  the  simple  truth.  Much 
pleasure  as  that  little  poem  had  given  her, 
she  would  much  rather  not  have  written  it,  or 
even  that  it  should  have  failed  of  success  alto- 
gether, than  have  wounded  the  schoolmate 


268  LUCY  LEE. 

whose  assistance  and  friendship  she  had  prized 
so  highly. 

In  the  midst  of  her  reflections  on  the  subject, 
and  before  her  books  were  opened,  she  heard 
the  quick  step  and  lively  voice  of  Doctor 
King  at  her  door. 

"  Come  out,  Lu !  come  quickly,"  he  said, 
"  and  help  Morton  through  a  page  or  two  of 
Virgil.  Somehow  or  other,  he  has  got  lost  in 
that  big  wooden  horse  of  Minerva's,  and  in  the 
midst  of  so  many  Grecian  youths  forgets  he  is 
a  Trojan." 

"  "  Now,  Doctor  King,**that  is  my  lesson,  and 
not  his,"  Lucy  replied,  laughing,  as  she  made 
haste  to  open  the  door.     "  It  is  I  who  have% 
that  story  of  Eneas  to  translate  to-night.     Mor- 
ton knows  it  all." 

"  Anyhow,  he  is  out  here  puzzling  over  it, 
and  looking  sorely  bewildered.  I  thought  it 
was  he  who  needed  help,  and  as  I  had  to  go 
down  to  old  Mrs.  Hicks  to  bring  home  my 
wife,  and  couldn't  set  him  right  myself,  you 
should  try  what  you  can  do." 


LUCY  LEE.  269 

"  What  a  great  tease  your  uncle  is !  "  Lucy 
said,  as  she  deposited  her  heavy  dictionary  on 
the  stand,  and  sat  down  with  Virgil  in  her 
hands  in  a  seat  near  by.  "  I  don't  see  how 
he  discovered  the  subject  of  my  lesson,  to- 
night." 

"You  forget  that  he  dropped  in  at  Dido's 
banquet  this  morning.  I  think  he  recollects 
enough  of  the  old  poem  to  know  what  comes 
next.  And  he  must  have  noticed,  Lucy,  how 
you  have  run  away  from  my  assistance  every 
night  this  week,"  her  companion  added,  in  a 
serious  tone. 

Lucy  blushed  as  she  said,  "  I  thought  you 
.  were  not  quite  pleased  with  me ;  indeed  I 
didn't  know  but  this  last  week " 

Morton  took  advantage  of  her  hesitation 
to  say,  "  You  might  deprive  me  of  a  very 
great  pleasure — that  of  assisting  you  with  your 
Latin  lessons  as  long  as  I  remain.  Then  I  had 
something  besides  I  wished  to  say  to  you." 

"About  the^oem  ?•"  Lucy  asked,  frankly. 

"  Yes !     What  made  you  think  of  that  ?  " 


270  LUCY  LEE. 

"Because  you  never  have  spoken  to  me 
about  it ;  and  I  am  sure  you  don't  like  it." 

"  I  do  like  it,  every  sentiment  and  every  line 
of  it ;  and  yet  its  success  gave  me  more  pain 
than  I  should  like  to  acknowledge.  Shall  I 
tell  you  why,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  should  like  to  know." 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  know  anything  about 
my  plans  for  the  future.  I  have  never  said 
much  about  them,  for  fear  I  might  change  my 
mind.  When  I  set  out  to  be  a  Christian,  I 
resolved  to  do  all  the  good  I  could  in  the 
world,  whatever  I  might  be  called  to  do.  I 
thought  first  I  would  be  a  teacher ;  then  a 
minister ;  and  afterwards  I  resolved  to  be  both 
together,  and  go  and  carry  the  good  news  of 
the  gospel  to  the  heathen.  Sometimes  when  I 
thought  about  it,  it  seemed  like  a  great  solitary 
work  ;  but  since  I  knew  you,  Lucy,"  he  said, 
in  a  lower  voice,  "  I  have  often  thought,  whea 
1  got  through  my  studies,  I  would  ask  you  to 
go  with  me,  and  help  .teach  poor,  ignorant 
souls  of  the  Saviour  who  died  for  them.  I 


LUCY  LEE.  271 

heard  uncle  say  once,  you  would  make  a  first- 
rate  missionary,  Lucy.  But  when  I  heard  of 
the  success  of  your  poem,  and  knew  that  the 
paths  of  literature  and  fame  were  opening 
before  you,  and  how  well  you  would  love  to 
walk  in  those  paths,  I  could  not  help  feeling 
there  was  a  death-blow  to  the  hopes  I  had  all 
along  been  cherishing.  Do  you  understand 
me?" 

"  I  think  so.  You  were  not  displeased  with 
me  then,  Morton  ? "  And  a  bright  flash  of 
light  overspread  her  grave,  serious  face. 

"  I  was  never  displeased  with  you  in  all  my 
life,"  he  answered  in  a  low  tone.  "  I  was  only 
very  sorry  and  disappointed.  I  could  not 
think  you  would  be  willing  to  forsake  a  life- 
path  so  pleasant,  to  go  with  me  to  a  strange, 
benighted  land." 

"  I  have  thought  a  good  deal  about  being  a 
teacher,  if  I  could  get  prepared,"  Lucy  replied ; 
"  but  I  never  thought  of  leaving  my  home  and 
country  for  ever.  Oh !  how  can  you  go,  Mor- 
ton?" 


272  LUCY  LEE.    , 

"How  can  I  stay,  rather,  when  I  hear  the 
Lord  of  the  Harvest  calling  for  laborers? 
Sometimes  I  think  I  should  like  to  remain  at 
home,  and  become  a  great  man,  and  do  some- 
thing to  be  remembered  by  my  countrymen  in 
future  years;  and  then  the  thought  of  Him 
who  was  rich,  and  for  our  sakes  became  poor, 
who  was  the  Prince  of  Glory,  and  yet  laid 
aside  his  kingdom  and  his  crown  for  a  cradle 
in  a  manger  and  a  death  on  the  cross,  makes 
me  willing  to  forget  all  my  earthly  ambition, 
and  follow  in  his  footsteps.  I  have  a  good 
many  struggles,  however,  for  I  am  naturally 
very  proud  and  fond  of  distinction." 

"  Oh,  so  am  I ! "  said  Lucy,  bowing  her 
head  as  though  the  confession  were  very  pain- 
ful. "I  never  thought  how  proud  and  vain 
before."  For  some  minutes  she  sat  with  her 
head  leaning  on  her  hand  in  silent  thought, 
then  said :  "  It  has  been  a  snare  to  me,  Morton. 
Dear  Mrs.  Bobbins  often  told  me  I  ought  to 
cultivate  the  talent  gjven  me  for  writing  like 
any  other  of  God's  gifts,  for  the  sake  of  exert- 


LUCY  LEE.  273 

ing  an  influence  and  trying  to  do  good  in  the 
world.  But  I  am  sure  I  have  thought  a  great 
deal  more  about  making  a  name,  and  winning 
praise  and  admiration,  than  of  doing  good." 

"With  the  consciousness  of  being  capable 
of  surpassing  others,  it  is  very  difficult  to  mo- 
derate one's  ambition  to  the  simple  field  of 
usefulness  and  duty.  I  know  something  about 
it  by  experience.  When  uncle  says  to  me, 
as  he  often  does,  you  know — '  I  expect  to  see 
you  President  of  the  United  States  yet,  and 
make  you  a  visit  at  the  "  White  House," '  it 
rouses  all  the  old  desire  for  superiority,  and  I 
am  almost  tempted  to  cast  off  the  mightier  obli* 
gations  of  the  Christian  soldier,  and  enter  a 
field  where  men  and  mind  contend  fbr  prece- 
dence. Which  would  be  the  better  way,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  one  who  would  abide  by  an- 
other's decisions,  Morton  ;  I  learned  that  long 
ago.  So  if  I  were  to  tell  you,  you  had  better 
strive  for  the  Presidency  of  the  United  States, 
or  for  gome  other  office  which  calls  for  an  equal 

amount  of  wisdom  and  judgment  in  the  eyes 
35 


274  LUCY  LEE. 

of  the  world,  I  know  you  would  not  heed  me. 
But  whatever  your  own  conscience  says,  I  am 
sure  you  will  do,  whether  it  be  hard  or 
easy." 

"God  helping  me  to  take  up  the  cross  of 
self-denial,  I  will  I"  he  replied  firmly.  "And  are 
you  willing  to  listen  and  let  conscience  dictate 
your  life-work  too,  Lucy  ?  I  don't  mean  directly, 
for  one  ought  not  to  (decide  upon  things  of 
importance  hastily.  If  I  live  I  will  come 
back  here  in  a  year,  and  you  shall  tell  me  your 
decision  then." 

Lucy  made  no  reply  ;  but  there  were  bright 
shining  drops  trembling  in  her  eyes,  and  ready 
to  fall  upon  the  open  book,  which  as  yet  had 
the  secret  of  the  next  day's  lesson  fast  locked 
within  its  leaves. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WHEN  Doctor  and  Mrs.  King  returned, 
Morton  and  Lucy  had  translated  the  whole 
story  of  the  Monster  Horse  which  vanquished 
Troy,  and  were  deep  in  Latin  roots.  No  one 
'dreamed  what  graver  subject  had  lain  in  the 
foreground  of  the  evening  lesson.  The  doctor 
took  the  opportunity  to  lecture  them  on  syntax, 
and  showed  plainly  that  the  learning  of  his 
college  days  was  not  all  forgotten.  Examina- 
tion-day was  at  hand,  and  he  declared  that 
any  failure  in  the  Latin  class  would  be  a  morti- 
fication to  himself  personally,  inasmuch  as  he 
had  had  abundant  opportunities  for  drilling  it 
and  hadn't  done  it. 

There  was  no  failure,  however,  when  the 
expected  day  came,  for  Morton  and  Lucy  were 
not  of  those  who  fail  in  any  undertaking. 


276  LUCY  LEE. 

To  good  natural  qualifications,  they  brought 
unflinching  purpose  and  untiring  industry, 
without  which  no  scholar  ever  yet  made  his 
mark.  It  has  very  truly  been  said,  tJi&re  is  no 
royal  road  to  learning!  Along  the  same  dry 
and  dusty  highways,  and  over  the  same  rugged 
summits,  the  student  of  whatever  name  or  rank 
must  plod  on  and  on,  drinking  at  the  same 
rills  for  refreshment.  Those  only  who  loiter 
and  grow  discouraged,  find  not  the  living 
springs  which  impart  fresh  strength  to  go  for- 
ward. 

Dr.  King  was  delighted  with  the  Latin 
exercises;  so  were  some  of  the  faculty  of  a 
neighboring  college  present  on  the  occasion, 
who  bestowed  their  commendations  without 
measure.  The  compositions  drew  from  them 
equal  praise.  One  of  these  was  declared  to  be 
so  far  superior  to  ordinary  school  efforts,  that  a 
copy  of  it  was  requested  for  the  pages  of  the 
College  Monthly.  Lucy,  whose  composition  it 
was,  would  have  withheld  it ;  but  her  friends 
overruling  her  determination,  she  was  soon  be- 


LUCY  LEE.  277 

fore  the  public  again,  more  conspicuously  than 
at  first,  her  present  article  being  prefaced  by 
some  remarks  from  one  of  the  Professors,  cal- 
culated to  attract  general  attention  to  it. 

It  did  not  bring  to  Lucy's  heart,  however, 
a  repetition  of  its  former  joy.  Seldom  has 
a  second  draught  of  praise  the  full  sweetness  of 
the  first,  under  equal  circumstances  ;  and  now 
new  thoughts  of  life,  and  labor,  and  duty,  were 
possessing  her  mind,  and  banishing  the  glitter- 
ing dreams  which  for  a  while  had  charmed  her 
young  imagination,  and  made  her  unmindful 
of  the  sacred  injunction,  "  Whatsoever  ye  do, 
do  all  to  the  glory  of  God."  It  still  gratified 
her  that  her  efforts  should  have  won  the 
commendation  of  her  superiors  ;  but  there  was 
no  longer  the  feverish  thirsting  for  approval, 
which  imperceptibly  even  to  herself  had  been 
checking  her  highest  moral  progress,  and  hin- 
dering her  growth  in  grace. 

Morton  and  Lucy  parted  without  another 
word  relative  to  the  future.  He  had  much 
study  and  preparation  yet  to  make,  before  he 


278  LUCY  LEE. 

would  be  ready  to  enter  upon  the  work  of  his 
choice.  "Would  he  be  able,  amid  all  the  tempta- 
tions to  which  he  would  be  exposed,  to  keep 
down  the  worldly  aspiration,  and  remain  true 
to  his  simple  conviction  of  Christian  duty  ? 
This  was  a  question  Lucy  often  asked  herself  as 
she  went  about  her  own  homely  duties  during 
the  long  summer  vacation.  She  had  no  doubt 
of  it ;  for  she  fully  believed  that  Morton 
King's  fidelity  to  an  honest  persuasion,  to- 
gether with  his  natural  steadiness  of  purpose, 
would  prevail  over  any  or  every  tempter 
which  might  assail  him.  The  result  proved 
her  judgment  correct.  To  ambition,  wealth, 
and  fame,  leagued  foes  of  the  young  Christian, 
he  was  able  to  say,  "  Get  thee  behind  me  !  I 
have  enlisted  under  another  Captain,  in  another 
Cause." 

There  are  more  such  heroes,  my  young 
friend,  than  the  world  has  ever  enrolled 
on  her  fame-list;  but  they  are  not  forgot- 
ten by  the  King  of  kings  himself,  who 
will  count  all  their  struggles  and  victories  in 


LUCY  LEE.  279 

his  service,  and  crown  them  at  last  wore  than 
Conquerors. 

To  no  one,  not  even  to  her  nearest  friends, 
did  Lucy  speak  of  the  new  direction  her 
thoughts  had  taken,  since  that  single  conversa- 
tion with  Morton  King.  His  last  words  to  her 
on  the  subject,  "  One  ought  not  to  decide  upon 
things  of  great  importance  hastily"  were 
well  remembered,  and  often  pondered  in  her 
hours  of  self-communing  and  retirement. 
Was  she  willing  to  forego  all  her  own  plans 
for  the  future,  to  forget  the  sweet  dreams  in 
which  youthful  hope  had  loved  to  revel,  to  lay 
her  home,  her  friends,  and  her  beloved  country 
— all  these,  with  a  second  offering  of  self,  on  the 
altar  of  her  dear  Redeemer  ?  It  was  a  trying 
question,  one  not  likely  to  be  decided  too 
hastily.  It  was  a  question  to  be  wept  over 
and  prayed  over  in  the  silent  hours,  when  the 
careless  and  the  light-hearted  sleep;  when  the 
Keeper  of  Israel,  whose  watchful  eye  never 
slumbers,  bends  low  to  his  waiting  earthly 
children.  Lucy  was  often  pouring  the  tale  of 


280  LUCY  LEK 

her  secret  care  into  his  ear,  daring  those  solemn 
watches  when  the  world  was  wrapped  in 
silence,  until  at  last  from  the  depths  of  her 
full  heart  she  could  exclaim,  "Accept  the 
offering,  0  Lord,  though  unworthy  I  " 

Morton  wrote  frequently  to  his  uncle,  and 
sometimes  a  note  reached  Lucy  through  this 
medium.  He  never  questioned  her  decision, 
however,  or  referred  to  it  in  any  way  directly, 
though  he  often  spoke  of  his  own  increased 
joy  in  view  of  his  chosen  work. 

It  was  a  season  of  great  tumult  and  political 
agitation  throughout  the  country,  and  while 
most  of  his  fellow  students  were  becoming 
violent  partisans,  Morton  was  able  to  look  with 
an  eye  of  steady  faith  to  him  who  will  over- 
turn and  overturn,  until  He  whose  right  it  is 
shall  reign.  How  pleasant  to  think  that 
while  the  earth  seems  shaken  to  its  foundation 
by  man's  contentions,  there  are  some  who 
stand  serene  and  peaceful  upon  this  high 
mount  of  prophecy. 

Never  before  had  Morton  experienced  en- 


LUCY  LEE.  281 

tire  satisfaction  in  his  choice.  Hitherto  there 
had  been  a  mighty  struggle  in  his  mind 
between  the  way  which  conscience  had  marked 
out  as  the  way  of  duty,  and  another,  path 
leading  to  heights  giddy  and  bewildering. 
But  now  from  his  exalted  stand-point,  with 
the  din  of  struggling  factions  in  his  ears,  he 
could  exclaim  in  fulness  of  heart,  "  He  hath 
led  me  by  a  way  I  knew  not  of,  and  his  ban- 
ner over  me  is  love." 

36 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WITH  the  spring  that  succeeded,  fell  another 
shower  of  divine  blessing  on  the  languishing 
churches  of  New  England.  From  a  few  hum- 
ble closets  and  lonely  hearts  had  ceaseless 
prayers  arisen,  that  the  Lord  would  revive  his 
work.  The  Lord  has  respect  unto  the  lowly  ; 
His  ear  bendeth  to  their  cry.  Only  a  few 
feeble  indications  at  first  foretold  the  gathering 
mercy.  Christians  whose  lips  had  grown  un- 
familiar with  the  language  of  Zion,  and  whose 
feet  had  strayed  far  away  into  world-paths, 
uttered  low,  broken  tones  of  confession  to  their 
more  faithful  brethren. 

Where  a  spark  of  grace  lingers  in  the  human 
heart,  a  little  love-labor  will  soon  prepare  it  for 
the  full  breath  of  the  spirit  of  the  Lord. 
Hence  the  blessed  results  so  often  attendant 


LUCY  LEE.  283 

on  Christian  conferences  and  communings. 
From  the  hearts  and  homes  of  a  few  spread 
the  warmth  and  glow  which  was  felt  that  sea- 
son in  nearly  every  section  of  our  beloved 
country.  Colleges  and  institutions  of  learning 
shared  abundantly  in  the  work  of  grace,  and 
none  to  a  greater  extent  according  to  its  size 
than  the  little  pastoral  seminary  among  the 
hills  of  Vermont.  For  some  time  had  its 
members  been  the  subjects  of  special  prayer ; 
and  when  the  first  seriousness  became  appa- 
rent, the  pious  teachers  were  prepared  for  the 
responsibility  of  their  work. 

What  melting  seasons  of  prayer  and  thanks- 
giving followed,  as  one  and  another  of  the 
beloved  pupils  expressed  a  wish  to  taste  of  the 
Lord's  goodness,  and  to  live  to  his  service,  can 
only  be  understood  by  those  who  have  enjoyed 
a  similar  revival.  How  the  hearts  of  old  pro- 
fessors warmed  towards  the  youthful  converts 
just  starting  on  the  course  they  had  been  trying 
to  run,  and  had  run  so  feebly,  as  they  confessed 
to  them  and  to  one  another !  and  how  earnest- 


284  LUCY  LEE. 

ly  were  these  exhorted  in  the  outset,  to  leave 
behind  everything  which  might  prove  a  hin- 
drance to  their  Christian  progress.  . 

Outside  the  school,  no  person  seemed  so 
entirely  interested  and  absorbed  in  the  revival 
as  Doctor  King,  whose  whole  heart  was  enlisted 
in  the  work.  No  one  had  ever  seen  him  so 
simply  demonstrative  before,  not  even  in  the 
former  revival  of  which  he  was  a  subject. 
There  was  a  lingering  of  reserve  then,  felt  even 
by  his  most  intimate  friends ;  now,  through 
his  great,  warm  heart  the  love  of  Christ  shone 
clear  and  triumphant.  He  was  the  first  to 
point  the  trembling  soul  to  the  Lamb  of  God  ; 
the  first  to  clasp  the  hand  of  the  timid  believer, 
and  bid  him  have  courage  and  be  strong. 
With  the  double  charge  of  church  and  school, 
the  hands  and  heart  of  the  faithful  pastor 
seemed  more  than  full ;  and  a  letter  from 
Doctor  King  to  his  nephew  at  this  time 
brought  the  latter  very  unexpectedly  to  Mr. 
Robbins's  aid,  with  his  heart  all  glowing  with 
zeal  for  the  cause  of  his  Master. 


LUCY  LEE.  285 

Very  affectionate  were  the  greetings  which, 
welcomed  Morton  back  to  his  friends  and 
fellow-students,  many  of  whom  recalled  with 
grateful  emotions  his  former  kind  admonitions 
and  gentle  Christian  example.  And  now 
for  the  first  time  he  made  known  to  them  his 
long-cherished  plan  of  becoming  a  minister  of 
the  Gospel  and  a  missionary  to  the  heathen. 
It  was  at  one  of  their  meetings  for  conference, 
when  Christians  were  moved  to  speak  freely  of 
the  operations  of  the  spirit  within  their  own 
hearts. 

Many  listened  to  the  confession  of  the 
young  student  with  surprise ;  for,  notwith- 
standing their  convictions  of  his  deep  and  fer- 
vent piety,  they  had  long  ago  awarded  to  his 
superior  abilities  a  place  of  lofty  eminence  and 
distinction  among  men.  They  had  never 
thought  of  his  forsaking  all  things  for  the 
Kingdom  of  God's  sake  and  the  Gospel. 

His  uncle  was  one  of  these ;  and  when  the 
long  meditated  design  of  his  nephew  was 
made  known  to  him,  he  grasped  his  hand  and 


286  LUCY  LEE. 

with  tears  flowing  down  his  cheeks,  said,  "It 
is  better  than  the  '  White  House,'  to  go  the 
Lord's  ambassador  to  a  heathen  land !  God 
bless  you,  my  dear  boy." 

There  was  not  a  dry  eye  in  the  room 
as  the  doctor  spoke,  and  every  heart  re- 
echoed his  blessing.  It  is  a  touching  sight 
when  the  young,  at  the  call  of  country,  for- 
getful of  privation  and  danger,  go  forth  to 
battle  in  its  service.  It  is  a  sight  to  move  the 
hearts  of  men  and  angels,  when  such  are  will- 
ing to  take  their  lives  in  their  hands,  and  go 
to  the  outer  posts  of  self-denial  and  danger,  in 
their  Heavenly  Master's  cause.  God  bless  the 
Missionary  of  the  Cross ! 

The  revival  went  steadily  forward  until  not 
only  the  school-pupils  but  most  of  the  youth 
of  the  town  were  numbered  among  its  subjects. 
With  these  were  both  Harry  and  Charley 
Lee,  and  Lucy's  heart  overflowed  with  joy 
and  thanksgiving  for  her  brothers.  A  most 
affectionate  relation  had  always  existed  be- 
tween them,  and  except  one  point,  entire 


LUCY  LEE.  287 

confidence.  Lucy  had  long  understood 
Harry's  desire  for  an  education,  and  had 
encouraged  him  in  every  way  to  persevere  in 
his  efforts  to  obtain  one.  "  Nothing  is  impos- 
sible," she  would  say  to  him.  "  You  can  get 
thoroughly  fitted  for  college  here,  fitted  even 
to  enter  forward  a  year  perhaps ;  then  you  can 
teach  awhile,  and  I  can  help  you  a  little  by 
that  time,  I  hope.  All  father  will  be  able  to 
do  is  to  give  you  your  time,  but  we  can  do 
your  sewing  at  home,  and  you  will  be  sure  to 
get  along  somehow,  for  '  where  there's  a  will, 
there  is  always  a  way.J ': 

But  now  Charley,  who  had  hitherto  been 
indifferent  upon  the  subject,  wished  for  an 
education  too,  and  what  could  be  done?  Mr. 
Lee  was  not  onlv  unable  to  furnish  the  means, 

tf 

but  could  ill  afford  to  spare  both  boys  from 
the  farm.  He  had  always  hoped  one  of  them 
would  be  content  to  stay  with  him  on  the  old 
place,  he  said,  poor  as  the  inducements  were ; 
but  if  it  wouldn't  satisfy  them,  they  must  go, 
and  he  would  try  to  do  the  best  he  could 


288 


LUCY  LEE. 


alone.  Lucy  conversed  frequently  with  her 
parents  and  brothers  on  the  subject,  and  it  was 
decided  to  be  no  more  than  right  that  the 
boys  thenceforward  should  divide  their  labor, 
and  have  an  equal  chance  for  an  education. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SOME  time  after  Morton  went  back  again  to 
college,  and  things  were  going  on  in  their  cus- 
tomary manner  in  school,  Dr.  King  invited 
Lucy  to  go  and  ride  with  him  one  afternoon, 
over  the  mountain.  It  was  Saturday  and 
half  holiday,  so  she  was  much  pleased  with 
the  proposition. 

It  was  a  long  time  since  she  had  enjoyed 
her  favorite  ride.  Doctor  King  took  the  same 
old  route  they  had  often  pursued  the  summer 
succeeding  her  long  illness,  and  ib  gave  them  a 
view  of  some  of  the  finest  scenery  of  the  val- 
ley of  the  Connecticut.  Lucy's  love  for  the 
mountains  had  in  no  way  diminished  with 
years;  and  as  they  rode  forward,  or  paused 
now  and  then  to  mark  some  feature  of  uncom- 
mon beauty  or  interest,  her  heart  was  too  fuJJ 
37 


290  LUCY  LEE. 

for  words.  The  doctor  seemed  in  a  less  talka- 
tive mood  than  usual,  and  so  for  a  time  the 
ride  promised  to  be  a  very  silent  one. 

But  when  the  last  summit  was  passed,  and 
they  began  the  descent  to  the  village  beyond, 
where  the  doctor's  errand  lay,  he  managed  to 
break  the  silence  by  saying,  "  I  had  a  dozen 
things  to  say  to  you  to-day,  Lu,  but  couldn't 
possibly  draw  you  out  of  the  clouds  when  we 
were  on  the  mountain  top." 

*'  But  we  are  leaving  mountain  and  clouds 
both  behind  us  now,"  Lucy  replied  pleasantly. 

The  doctor  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  begin 
the  conversation  to  which,  her  frank  reply 
invited ;  but  after  a  little  hesitation  said — 
"  Would  you  tell  an  old  man  a  secret,  Lu, 
after  he  had  -guessed  it  correctly  ?  " 

"  I  would  tell  you  anything  you  should  ask 
me  confidentially,  Doctor  King!  " 

"  Bravo !  my  child,"  he  exclaimed,  "  for  you 
and  Morton  are  my  children — all  the  chil- 
dren I  have,  and  I  have  often  puzzled  my 
grey  head  to  think  how  I  could  do  something 


LUCY  LEE.  291 

for  you  both.  I  questioned  him  a  little,  but 
he  stands  in  need  of  no  pecuniary  aid,  nor  is 
he  likely  ever  to  do  so.  Now  what  I  wish  to 
know  in  the  first  place  is,  whether  my  sus- 
picions are  true,  and  you  are  to  share  his  future 
life-lot?" 

Lucy's  reply  was  an  indirect  one.  "We 
both  wished  to  tell  you,"  she  said,  with  blush- 
ing cheeks,  "  and " 

"  And  so  kept  it  still  as  mice  from  your 
dear  old  uncle,  who  isn't  quite  blind  yet,  how- 
ever, and  who  will  give  you  a  blessing  with  all 
his  heart.  I  always  hoped  you  and  Morty 
would  fancy  one  another,  but  never  dreamed 
of  his  making  such  a  life-choice  as  he  has  done. 
It  is  the  best  one,  however,  though  it  will  be 
hard  for  me  to  part  with  both  my  pets  at  once. 
Another  thing  troubles  me.  You  know  my 
income  haa  always  been  all  I  could  spend  up 
here,  while  my  patients  were  sending  beef  and 
pork,  and  corn  and  potatoes,  enou.gh  for  two 
families  to  eat.  Now,  Mr.  Bobbins  says  he 
will  no  longer  take  the  hundred  dollars  I  have 


292  LUCY  LEE. 

been  in  the  habit  of  advancing  him  yearly,  as 
the  income  from  his  school  more  than  meets 
his  wants.  Why  should  I  put  it  to  interest 
when  I  have  neither  child  nor  chick  to  come 
after  me  ?  I  tell  you,  Lu,  I've  thought  a  good 
deal  about  an  old  epitaph  I've  seen  some- 
where : 

"  What  I  spent,  I  had; 
What  I  gave,  I  have, 
What  I  left,  Host! 

"  Now  I  don't  want  to  leave  much  to  lose.  I 
spend  all  I  need ;  but  it  is  very  little  I've  got 
laid  up  for  the  future  world.  It  is  too  late  for 
me  to  think  of  doing  much  work  in  the  Lord's 
vineyard  myself,  but  if  I  could  help  fit  a 
laborer  or  two,  it  might  be  an  acceptable 
eleventh  hour  service.  I've  been  thinking 
about  Harry  and  Charley,  Lucy.  They  are 
good,  brave  boys  both,  and  would,  I  am  sure, 
with  a  little  help  at  the  outset,  soon  be  able  to 
make  bold  thrusts  at  error.  They  need  an 
education  for  any  profession  they  may  choose, 
and  since  your  father  is  not  able  to  bestow  it 


LUCY  LEE.  293 

unaided,  why  may  not  I  be  allowed  the  privi- 
lege of  assisting  ?  " 

Lucy  could  not  reply ;  she  only  took  her 
dear  old  friend's  hand  as  he  went  on  to  say, 
"  You  see  I'm  selfish  in  it  all,  child.  I've 
worked  for  self  so  long,  it's  hard  to  learn 
lessons  of  pure  benevolence  now." 

"  You  shall  not  talk  so  about  yourself,  Dr. 
King !  "  Lucy  exclaimed,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes.  "  You  are  the  most  unselfish  person  I  ever 
knew,  any  way.  From  morning  until  night, 
and  from  day  to  day,  you  are  always  doing 
for  somebody,  or  making  somebody  happy  !  " 

"  Hush,  Lucy,  and  listen  to  me  before  you 
eulogize  me  thus.  Don't  you  see  how  my 
locks  are  already  as  white  as  the  blossoming 
almond-tree,  and  how  soon  they  must  be  laid 
in  the  grave?  Why  should  I  not  try  to  do 
something  which  may  be  turned  to  my  account 
at  last  ?  Why,  when  my  eyes  are  getting  dim 
to  the  world,  and  my  strength  fails,  may  I  not 
have  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  if  I  have 
done  but  little  myself,  I  have  encouraged 


294  LUCY  LEE. 

others,  whom  I  shall  leave  behind,  to  work  for 
humanity  and  God  ?  " 

It  was  not  often  Dr.  King  spoke  so  earnestly, 
and  as  Lucy  looked  up  and  saw  the  warm, 
bright  light  that  beamed  on  his  open,  honest 
face,  she  could  not  help  saying,  "  What  a  great 
soul  you  have  got,  doctor !  I  can  see  it  now 
shining  like  Jupiter  among  the  little  planets. 
I  don't  think  any  one  need  doubt  that  spirits 
hereafter  will  differ  in  glory,  when  we  see  them 
so  very  unlike  here  !  " 

"  They  will  differ,  my  child — no  mistake  about 
it ;  but  they  will  have  to  be  weighed  there 
in  the  great  scale  of  motive,  and  I've  no  doubt 
that  many  a  soul  looked  upon  here  as  poor 
and  niggard,  will  there  outshine  the  brightest. 
Man  sees  no  further  than  the  outside,  while  to 
the  eye  of  Omniscience  all  the  thoughts  and  in- 
tents of  the  heart  lie  naked  !  " 

A  long  and  pleasant  conversation  followed 
respecting  the  influences  which  determine  the 
human  will,  and  direct  its  actions  for  good  or 
evil,  and  upon  the  mysteries  of  those  powers. 


LUCY  LEE.  295 

moral  and  spiritual,  whose  operations  are 
known  only  by  their  visible  effects  on  the  life 
and  conversation. 

Dr.  King  had  thought  much,  and  reasoned 
much.  At  one  time,  as  we  have  seen,  he  was  out 
on  a  wide  sea  of  speculation,  in  depths  too 
great  for  man's  short  line  to  fathom.  Now,  as 
he  himself  said,  his  bark  had  been  wafted  back 
by  gentle  breezes  to  the  sheltering  haven  of 
his  childhood.  The  same  faith  his  mother 
taught  him  at  her  knee,  was  his  polar  star, 
by  which  he  trusted,  when  his  orders  came, 
to  steer  steadily  and  safely  into  the  port  of 
Immortality. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

YEARS  which  have  brought  the  young  child 
to  manhood,  and  laid  old  age  to  unbroken 
slumbers,  have  passed  in  swift  succession  since 
the  commencement  of  our  story.  No  town  in 
all  New  England  has  been  more  blessed  with 
health  and  happiness  than  our  little  mountain 
town ;  none  more  favored  with  spiritual  and 
temporal  prosperity.  Everything  now  bears 
the  marks  of  thrift  and  enterprise.  The  vil- 
lage is  much  increased  in  size,  and  numbers 
several  very  fine  buildings,  among  which  are  a 
new  and  beautiful  church,  and  a  fine,  spacious 
seminary.  A  few  families  of  wealth  and 
social  position,  attracted  by  the  excellence  of 
the  school,  as  well  as  the  healthfulness  and 
beauty  of  the  locality,  have  removed  hither, 
and  contributed  to  its  general  prosperity.  A 


LUCY  LEE.  297 

railroad  has  also  been  completed  to  a  point  not 
far  distant,  bringing  with  it  some  of  the  refin- 
ing influences  of  the  New  England  metropolis, 
as  well  as  its  luxuries.  A  ride  of  a  few  hours 
now  transports  the  Bostonian  from  crowd- 
ed dusty  streets,  to  many  a  quiet  summer 
retreat  among  the  northern  hills  and  moun- 
tains. 

Among  the  new  and  benevolent  features  of 
our  mountain  town  is  a  Missionary  Society, 
which  promises  much  usefulness.  Its  mem- 
bers are  busily  engaged  now  in  preparing  an 
outfit  for  one  of  their  number.  Morton  King 
has  completed  his  studies,  been  accepted  by 
the  Board,  and  is  soon  to  sail  for  Asia.  Lucy, 
a  noble,  talented  woman,  will  accompany  him. 
Never  for  a  moment  has  she  regretted  the 
consecration  of  herself  to  such  a  work,  though 
fraught  with  self-denial  and  sacrifice.  Never 
do  her  young  dreams  of  fame  and  worldly 
distinction  cast  a  cloud  over  her  future.  Her 
pen  is  still  the  beloved  companion  of  her  medi- 
tative hours,  and  gushes  of  song,  sweet  as  the 
38 


298  LUCY  LEE. 

skylark's,  often  tremble  and  soar  upwards 
towards  the  fountain  of  all  inspiration. 

She  is  home  now,  spending  the  last  few 
weeks  before  leaving  her  native  country,  with 
her  parents,  brothers,  and  sisters.  Harry  is 
away  at  college,  but  is  expected  soon  to  pass 
with  them  his  first  vacation.  Charley  has 
been  studying  with  Doctor  King  for  nearly  a 
year,  and  is  already  a  great  favorite  with  him ; 
so  great  that  the  doctor  insists,  as  soon  as  his 
lecture  season  is  over,  the  young  man  shall 
take  his  saddle-bags,  "step  into  his  shoes," 
and  leave  him  to  enjoy  slippers  and  rest  as  an 
old  man  should.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  gratifying  to  Lucy  than  this.  That 
Charley  should  still  be  near  her  parents,  with 
the  prospect  of  being  able  to  cheer  and  comfort 
them  in  their  declining  years,  and  be  also  the 
friend  and  helper  of  the  dear  old  man  to 
whom  they  all  owed  so  much,  was  a  source  of 
greatest  joy  to  her  m  the  prospect  of  separa- 
tion. 

How  everytfiing  had  worked  together  for  good 


LUCY  LEE.  299 

to  them  since  they  had  loved  God,  was  the  fre- 
quent remark  which  fell  from  her  lips.  And 
the  thought  that,  though  widely  sundered,  they 
would  all  be  at  work  in  the  same  vineyard,  in 
the  service  of  the  same  good  master,  filled  her 
at  times  with  serenest  joy. 

God's  field  ia  wide,  God's  work  is  great, 
And  we  all  must  help  who  can ; 

'Tis  better  than  fame,  to  write  one's  name 
On  the  heart  of  a  fellow  man  I 

Such  were  Lucy's  feelings  poetically  ex- 
pressed. To  lay  the  most  shining  gifts  on  the 
altar  of  the  world,  appeared  to  her  far  less 
great,  and  far  less  noble,  than  to  stand  forth  a 
witness  for  God's  truth.  "  Give  not  your 
youth  to  vanity,  nor  set  your  hearts  on  fame," 
were  her  frequent  exhortations  to  her  talented 
young  sister ;  "  but  speak  and  act  like  a  being 
endowed  with  a  heavenly  inspiration.  Genius 
may  be  a  dangerous  gift.  If  you  feel  the 
fluttering  of  its  wings,  ask  how  you  may  best 
consecrate  its  powers  to  the  service  of  God 


300  LUCY  LEK 

and  Humanity.  There  are  as  many  fields  as 
gifts  or  laborers.  Ask  then  in  humility, 
'  Where  will  my  Lord  have  me  work  ? '  and  let 
simple,  honest  conviction  decide  the  question. 
Mine  is  to  be  a  distant  field,  but  it  is  no  further 
from  our  Heavenly  Father's  house  than  these 
beloved  mountains.  We  cannot  go  to  that 
house  together.  One  by  one,  as  we  came  to 
our  earthly  home,  shall  we  go  hence  when  the 
short  work-day  of  life  is  over ;  whether  from 
Asia  or  America,  will  matter  little,  if  all  safe 
together  at  last" 

The  thought  of  parting  for  life  with  Lucy, 
was  a  heart-breaking  one  to  Ruth  and  Hetty, 
her  beautiful  young  sisters.  "  To  whom  shall 
we  go  with  our  many  hard  questions  and  diffi- 
cult problems,  when  she  is  gone  ?  "  was  their  oft 
repeated  inquiry.  "  Who  will  tell  us  such 
beautiful  stories  of  the  stars  and  flowers,  and 
show  us  how  angels  keep  watch  over  the  earth 
continually?  No  one  can  tell  as  sweet  stories 
as  Lucy." 

"  Ask  rather  how  /  am  to  live  without  her 


LUC7  LEE.  301 

who  for  so  many  years  has  been  my  best 
counsellor?  "  replied  their  mother  in  a  softened 
tone,  while  she  turned  away  to  hide  the  tears 
she  could  not  restrain. 

But  the  time  was  drawing  very  near. 
Already  the  religious  newspapers  had  an- 
nounced there  would  be  an  ordination  of  mis- 
sionaries in  Boston  on  the  first  of  September, 
and  it  was  now  August.  Harry  had  got  home, 
and  Morton  was  expected  in  a  few  days. 
Twice  a  week  the  Missionary  Society  met  now 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Eobbins,  and  his  wife  had 
her  hands  full,  cutting  and  planning,  and  pack- 
ing away  little  parcels,  to  be  opened  by  her 
young  friend  on  a  foreign  shore.  But  every- 
thing was  done  in  good  time,  and  the  last  box 
stood  ready  for  removal. 

"  She  must  be  married  in  church, "  said  one 
and  another  of  her  friends ;  "  the  whole  parish 
will  wish  to  witness  the  ceremony,  and  Mr. 
Lee's  cottage  cannot  accommodate  so  many. 
Besides,  Lucy  belongs  to  the  parish  now,  which 
has  pledged  itself  to  support  her." 


302  LUCY  LEE. 

It  mattered  little  to  Morton  or  Lucy  where 
the  ceremony  was  performed,  so  they  left  it  to 
be  decided  by  their  friends,  who  were  unani- 
mous in  favor  of  the  church.  The  young  girls 
of  the  school,  who  had  been  Lucy's  pupils, 
carried  garlands,  and  put  bouquets  of  the 
sweetest  mountain  flowers  around  the  altar. 
Mrs.  Bobbins  wrote  a  parting  hymn  for  them 
to  sing,  and  the  whole  congregation  were  weep- 
ing when  the  beloved  pastor  bestowed  the  final 
benediction. 

The  morning  sun  of  summer  was  shining 
brightly  without,  leaving  a  glory  upon  the 
mountains,  when  the  carriages  and  wagons 
laden  with  trunks  and  boxes  paused  before  the 
church  door. 

If  you  have  ever  witnessed  the  departure  of 
one  under  similar  circumstances,  you  will 
understand  what  heart-wringing  words  of 
adieu  are  mingled  with  the  tears  arid  blessings 
showered  upon  the  missionary  bride,  as  she 
turns  away  for  ever  from  the  home  and  friends 
of  her  childhood. 


LUCY  LEE.  803 

A  few  carriages  accompanied  them  to  the 
depot,  which  was  only  a  few  miles  distant,  but 
by  far  the  greater  portion  of  the  assembly 
were  left  standing  around  the  steps  of  the 
church,  waving  hands  and  handkerchiefs  until 
they  were  out  of  sight.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee  had 
parted  with  their  child  at  home ;  they  could 
not  bestow  their  last  blessing  in  the  presence 
of  strangers  ;  so,  as  soon  as  the  ceremony  was 
performed,  they  turned  away  to  their  own 
home  again,  not  even  waiting  to  see  the  car- 
riages depart. 

The  children  all  went  to  the  depot,  Harry, 
Charley,  Ruth,  and  Hetty ;  so  there  was 
another  leavetaking  of  the  brothers  and  sisters, 
tender,  solemn  as  eternity.  They,  who  from 
childhood  had  shared  each  other's  joys  and 
sorrows,  who  knew  all  the  dear  home  names 
and  sweet  home  places,  the  trees  where  the 
robins  built,  and  where  the  honey-birds  huqg 
their  nests,  the  south  hill-sides  on  which  the 
first  spring  flowers  blossomed,  the  meadows 
where  the  largest  strawberries  ripened,  and  the 


304  LUCY  LEE. 

spring  of  the  sweetest  waters,  who  knew  these, 
and  all  other  dear  places,  such  as  every  coun- 
try household  band  have  known  and  loved 
together,  were  to  meet  an  unbroken  band  on 
earth  no  more.  How  many  thoughts  of  the 
past  and  future  rush  into  the  mind  in  a  single 
moment  of  farewell ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MR.  and  Mrs.  Bobbins,  from  the  first,  had 
agreed  to  accompany  Morton  and  Lucy  to 
Boston,  witness  the  ordination,  and  see  them 
on  the  ship  which  was  to  bear  them  afar. 
This  was  a  great  comfort  to  Lucy,  for  it  seemed 
the  last  link  was  not  yet  broken  which  bound 
her  to  her  native  hills. 

Next  to  her  own  family  she  had  dreaded 
most  the  trial  of  parting  from  Dr.  King  and 
his  wife,  who  had  been  second  parents  to  her. 
It  was  a  great  relief  and  surprise  to  her  then, 
when  they  arrived  at  the  depot,  to  discover  the 
doctor  lifting  a  huge  travelling  portmanteau 
into  the  cars,  and  see  him  arrange  seats  for 
himself  and  wife  directly  opposite  those  which 
Morton  had  selected  for  themselves.  "  How 

very  kind  in  you,  dear  Doctor  King,"  was  all 
39 


306  LUCY  LEE. 

Lucy  could  say,  as  she  pressed  his  hand  to  her 
lips. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  replied,  hastily  brush- 
ing away  a  tear  which  threatened  to  betray  his 
emotion.  "I'm  all  out  of  medicine — have  to 
go  to  the  city  once  in  a  while  anyhow ;  and 
there's  wife  who  put  her  foot  down  s.he  would 
accompany  me  this  time  whether  or  no.  So 
you  see  nothing  could  be  done  but  let  her  have 
her  way  for  once." 

Morton  was  no  less  affected  than  Lucy,  by 
this  last  token  of  his  uncle's  regard.  "  I  wish- 
ed this  more  than  anything  else,"  he  said,  "  but 
knowing  how  infirm  you  are,  and  how  much 
you  have  overtasked  yourself  of  late,  I  did  not 
like  to  make  the  proposition." 

"  That  is  always  the  way  with  you  and 
Lucy.  One  would  never  guess  at  your  wishes 
if  they  didn't  watch  you  pretty  sharply. 
Then  to  think  of  my  over-doing  myself  with 
that  great  boy  Charley  always  on  hand  to  help  ! 
He  can  already  beat  me  springing  a  lancet  or 
pulling  a  tooth,  for  his  nerves  are  young  and 


LUCY  LEE.  307 

steady.  Another  thing  which  I  wanted  to  go 
to  the  city  for,  was  to  see  when  the  next 
course  of  Harvard  Lectures  begins.  I  mean  he 
shall  go  to  these  right  off,  and  be  the  sooner 
through.  He  don't  mistrust  a  thing  about  it 
though,  and  you  needn't  tell  him,  wife,  for  I 
may  change  my  mind." 

The  doctor's  presence  cheered  them  all  the 
long  way.  His  fund  of  stories  and  anecdotes 
was  exhaustless,  and  he  appeared  to  think  the 
little  party  had  need  of  some  enlivening  in- 
fluence, so  he  exerted  himself  as  he  had  seldom 
been  known  to  do  before,  and  the  ride  from 
morning  until  evening  seemed  neither  long 
nor  tiresome. 

The  sun  was  sinking  low,  when  the  grey 
shaft  of  Bunker  Hill  was  discerned  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  soon  after  the  beautiful  "  City  of 
the  Bay"  greeted  their  vision.  At  nightfall 
the  travellers  were  comfortably  established  at 
the  hospitable  "  Marlboro." 

The  next  morning,  after  a  drive  around 
the  city,  they  paid  a  visit  to  the  vessel  which 


308  LUG7  LEE. 

i 

was  to  convey  the  missionaries  to  a  distant 
land.  It  was  a  noble  ship,  staunch  and  statety, 
looking  as  though  it  might  bid  defiance  to 
storm  and  tempest.  It  was  an  object  of 
admiration  to  Lucy,  who  had  never  seen  an 
ocean  vessel  before,  and  who  looked  forward 
to  the  voyage  with  a  pleasant  interest.  "  Were 
it  not  for  these  bitter  partings,"  she  said,  when 
their  choice  of  state-room  had  been  made,  "  I 
should  be  more  than  happy  I  " 

A  few  friends  met  them  at  the  hotel  that 
evening,  and  another  young  missionary  pair, 
destined  for  the  same  field.  "  Henceforward 
we  are  to  be  sisters"  the  stranger  bride  said,  as 
she  kissed  Lucy's  cheek,  while  tears  filled  the 
eyes  of  each  at  the  recollections  which  that 
word  awakened.  Heroic  souls !  who,  at  the 
call  of  duty,  go  forth  to  combat  error. 
Heavenly  palms,  instead  of  earthly  laurels, 
await  you.  In  God's  name  ye  will  conquer. 

There  was  a  solemn,  quiet  gathering  the 
next  day  at  the  old  South  Church  to  witness 
the  ordination  of  the  missionaries.  Few  were 


LUCY  LEE.  309 

present  except  the  immediate  friends  of  the 
parties ;  for  although  notice  of  the  event  had 
been  made  public  through  the  religious  papers, 
it  was  a  time  of  too  great  national  and  politi- 
cal excitement  for  the  people  to  heed  the  de- 
parture of  a  little  handful  of  Christian  recruits 
going  to  fill  a  broken  company  on  a  foreign 
shore. 

At  the  same  hour,  a  vast  concourse  thronged 
the  open  spaces  around  Faneuil  Hall ;  banners 
were  waving  in  the  breeze ;  martial  music 
was  stirring  the  pulses  of  the  crowd :  eloquent 
lips  were  discoursing  of  patriotism,  and  pledg- 
ing eternal  fidelity  to  the  Union  and  the  Gov- 
ernment of  their  fathers.  A  volunteer  regi- 
ment was  passing  through  the  city  on  its  way 
to  the  "  Army  of  the  Potomac,"  and  citizens  and 
soldiers  were  alike  cheering  it  on  its  glorious 
errand.  The  carriages  of  the  little  missionary 
party,  on  their  way  to  the  place  of  embarka- 
tion, met  the  honored  regiment,  and  Morton 
King,  with  a  tear  in  his  eye,  lifted  his  hat  and 
said  fervently  "God  save  my  Country,  and 


310  LUCY  LEE. 

bless  her  noble  defenders !  "  For  a  moment, 
perhaps,  his  thoughts  reverted  to  his  early 
dreams  of  fame  and  distinction  ;  but  no  selfish 
regret  was  in  his  mind.  The  old  thirst  for 
superiority  had  long  since  subsided-,  and  left 
only  the  purest  patriotism  and  devotion  in  his 
heart. 

"  All  things  for  Christ !  "  he  exclaimed,  as 
he  met  his  uncle's  eye  fastened  upon  him  as  if 
to  read  the  nature  of  his  emotions  at  sight  of 
the  volunteers.  "  '  His  kingdom  is  an  everlast- 
ing kingdom,  and  of  his  dominion  there  shall 
be  no  end.'  Second  only  to  His  is  the  call  of 
one's  Country." 

"  You  are  right,  my  children,"  said  the  old 
man,  with  a  quivering  lip.  "  Fame,  Ambi- 
tion, Home,  and  Country  even — ALL  THINGS 
FOR  CHRIST." 


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